


Smoke and Burn

by allmystars



Series: Smoke and Burn [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent Parents, Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Amnesiac Dean Winchester, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety, Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Bottom Castiel, Bully Dean Winchester, Car Accidents, Character Death, DEAN DOES NOT PARTICIPATE IN THE RAPE, Depression, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, F/M, Firefighter Dean Winchester, Florist Castiel, Gang Rape, Gang Violence, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Jock Dean Winchester, M/M, Nerd Castiel, Overdosing, Panic Attacks, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rough Sex, Suicide Attempt, Top Dean, Tutor Castiel, Underage Drinking, Violence, Writer Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-04-22 14:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 190,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14310423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmystars/pseuds/allmystars
Summary: “They say you’re lucky if you find a love that lasts a lifetime. I’ll be lucky if I find it at all. True love doesn’t exist. Not in my experience.” - Dean Winchester“They say bad times never last. There’s always a calm after the storm, but I’ve yet to reach the calm. I’m starting to think it got lost on the way.” - Castiel NovakThen...Everything you thought you knew for certain...changes.Cas is back in Lawrence after years of absence, stirring up memories in Dean that had been long ago stolen by a disastrous accident. Dean doesn’t remember anything about Cas, but Cas will never forget what happened; what Dean did to him, and he hates him for it.But when Dean starts to remember, he starts falling apart, and Cas can’t help but see the man through his perception of him. The man he forced himself to forget. The man he loved.Can their love break through the boundaries of time and tragedy? Or will their demons swallow them alive?Will the friction light a spark? Or will it smoke out?Maybe it’ll all go up in flames.





	1. Like A Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys! This story is now and the timestamp are now complete! Check out Through The Smoke to see where Cas and Dean are two years later! 
> 
> Check me out on tumblr for updates on my other stories. I'm allmystars-i  
> (I'm still trying to figure tumblr out though. Just a heads up!)
> 
> You can also find me on instagram @allmystars_i
> 
>  
> 
> I just wanted to give y'all a warning about this story as I've gotten a few people telling me how hard this is to read or that they had to walk away from the story because of how dark and emotional it is. Please be aware of this before moving forward! I don't want anyone losing sleep over it, and, if you're anything like me, go through this carefully because I know the power a story can have over you, and I don't want anyone feeling more pain than they need in their life. 
> 
> This story might be triggering for some, so be aware of that. It's not supposed to make you feel good (though it might at times), it's supposed to make you feel. Good, bad, mad, and sad. (There are times when you're supposed to hate Dean. I've done that on purpose.)
> 
> I probably won't be editing this anymore, so nothing will change from here on out (Feb. 23/19). Please, please, please keep these warnings in mind if you have triggers (they should all be mentioned in the tags. If not, let me know and I'll add them)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you love reading this as much as I loved writing it!

_"In a world full of temporary things and fleeting emotions, love is not. Love is permanent—steadfast and everlasting. Love does not leave us, no matter the time or the distance. Love remembers. Love endures. Love remains. Even when we do not.” - Anonymous_

_CASTIEL_

**_December 7, 2009_ **

I duck into a doorway and press my back against the wall as my heart pounds against my ribcage and I pray to _God_ they don’t notice me as they run by.

Clutching my books to my chest and squeezing my eyes shut, I silently beg for some reprieve from the constant harassment, and, as their heavy feet pound the dirty tiles and their loud voices fill the air before moving farther down the hall, I think, maybe... _maybe_ someone's looking out for me up there.

Squinting through one eye, I peek around the doorway only to come face to…well… _nose,_ with none other than Dean Winchester.

My heart drops to my shoes and my shoulders slump as his lips turn up in a malicious smirk. Glancing behind him, I see the rest of his friends—my _cousins_ —standing only a few feet behind, staring me down with sadistic glee.

“What do we have here?” Dean drawls in a low growl as he looks over his shoulder. Every muscle in my body tenses as I start to tremble, knowing what comes next. Dean lifts his hand and I flinch as he pushes it through my hair, his lips tilting up a little more when he notices. He doesn’t pull on it—just holds it in his fist, tilting my head back a little so I’m staring into his eyes. Green eyes that would be pretty if they weren’t so full of cruelty.

Dean glances at the door behind me and his smirk grows a little as he forces me backward, through the door with the rest of the guys following close behind. My heart leaps into my throat, choking me with terror when the rows of lockers come into view, filled by the scent of dirty gym clothes and sweat. Blood-chilling fear floods me.

Michael pushes past Dean to make sure it’s empty before coming back and giving the all clear. Without any further hesitation, I’m dragged into the back corner of the locker room, Dean’s fingers still tangled in my hair. My scalp burns as he tugs hard, forcing tears to my eyes when I stumble, losing my footing on the polished tile, and he drags me back to my feet. Laughter from behind me turns my stomach and I have to force down my lunch, knowing it’ll only be worse if I throw up. I’m forced to my knees, wincing as I hit the floor hard enough to bruise. Cuts and bruises still mar my skin from last week, but by tomorrow I won’t be able to tell the old from the new.

They circle around me, blocking me in from all sides so I can’t escape. “He’s so pathetic, Jesus! Look, he’s _literally_ trembling with fear,” Lucas says from somewhere behind me and I look down at my hands, seeing that I am, in fact, shaking. I refuse to look at them as my shoulders hunch forward, my body already preparing for the first blow.

“What’s the matter little fag?” This comes from my right—Zachariah. “You afraid of a little pain? Maybe it’ll toughen you up a bit.” I hear snickers and bow my head a little more, curling into myself as my stomach heaves.

“That’s why your daddy left, you know; ‘cause you’re such a little fag. No dad wants a son that sucks dick!” Tears burn my eyes from their words, knowing how true they are. My dad _did_ leave, taking his only straight son with him and never looking back.

Suddenly there’s a hand on my chin and my face is jerked up roughly, hard enough to force a whimper from my throat. Green eyes bore into mine, flashing with anger when he sees my tears. I grunt as arms lift me from behind, wrapping around my elbows and pinning my arms behind my back.

Then Raphael is in my face, one hand in my hair, pulling hard enough that tears flood my eyes and roll down my cheeks. He sneers, sending his other fist into my stomach. Air rushes from my lungs and I choke, desperately trying to suck in a breath.

“Pathetic piece of shit!” Knuckles connect with my cheekbone, splitting the skin and whipping my head to the side and I grunt as pain explodes across my face. “Why the hell didn’t your daddy wear a condom? Jesus, you can’t even take a beating like a man! You’re _crying_ for fuck’s sake!” Self-loathing floods me because they’re right—I _know_ they’re right. I _am_ crying. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be alive.

Another flies at me and they don’t stop coming. My chest, stomach, face, ribs, and sides. I cry out with each one, only further proving their point. Everything hurts and my stomach turns again, more violently this time, but I swallow back the vomit as a foot connects with my groin.

I double over as an agonized scream burst out of me and I’m dropped to the floor. They don’t stop, though, as their feet continue pounding into me. I crack my eyes open and see Dean there, bringing his foot back before kicking me in the stomach. For some reason, his blows hurt worse than the rest.

I curl into myself, trying my best to shield the already brutalized parts of myself as I pray for it to stop. I don’t know how much longer they hit me, though, knocked unconscious from a boot to my temple, and only coming to when I'm lifted up and slammed against a locker. One of my eyes is swollen shut and the cut on my face drips blood down my cheek and onto the floor—can’t forget to wipe that up before I leave

I pry open my non-swollen eye and see Dean’s face close to mine. “Tell anyone what happened here and I’ll make you wish you were dead, got it?” _I already wish I was dead._ He doesn’t wait for a reply as he throws me down, delivering one more kick to my ribs for good measure before walking out, everyone else following behind.

I lay there for a while, hearing the first bell ring, then the warning bell—still laying there even after that last bell rings, signaling the end of class. I know I have to get up—the football team has practice after school so they'll be back and one beating is enough for today—but dragging myself off the floor seems almost impossible with all this pain radiating through every nerve in my body

I think back to Dean’s words, a bitter laugh bubbling in my throat. _I’ll make you wish you were dead._ How stupid—like they don’t already do that every day.

**_November 1, 2018_ **

I stare up at the newly placed sign, tilting my head and squinting at the swirling letters. _Buzzing Bee Flowers_. I yawn, finally feeling the exhaustion of the past few weeks of renovations and sleepless nights. It’s fine though—this is what I want. This city still makes my stomach clench and my breath catch with occasional panic but I refuse to run away again. Despite my nerves, a spark of happiness lights inside my chest at finally accomplishing something, even if it's lightyears away from my original dream. The secondary dream will just have to do.

Walking through the front door and smiling when the bell chimes, I look over all my hard work, grazing my fingers over some peonies before snagging the watering can and topping up the bucket. The cloying scent of pollen calms my nerves as I putter around for a bit, adjusting the signs and hanging bumblebee decorations from the ceiling.

The little shop sicks out like a sore thumb on the run down street, but the place was cheap, which was exactly what I was looking for. Besides, the location isn’t _that_ bad, even if it is right next to a bar. In a high crime area. In the middle of gang territory.

It was cheap.

I sigh as I lock the front door and head for the back stairs that lead to my small apartment. I make sure to lock the door behind me at the bottom, then the one at the top when I enter the apartment, making sure to flip all six deadbolts and slide both chains into place.

Glancing around my apartment, I take in the bed pressed against the right wall with the bookcase right next to it. I have a dresser against the wall at the foot of my bed and a small coach in the middle of the space, facing the TV that sits against the wall adjacent to the door. The kitchen is small with barely enough counter space to cook a single meal and I don’t have a kitchen table so I just eat on the couch or at the desk pressed up against the same wall as the bookcase but a little farther down. The washroom is small, with a combined shower and tub, a toilet and a small countertop with a medicine cabinet on the wall above the sink.

There are two windows whose only purpose is to let in light since they don’t open and the thick bars prevent anyone from getting in or out.

It’s not much, but it’s mine and that's what matters.

Kicking off my shoes, I don’t even bother changing before flopping down face first on my bed, closing my eyes and falling asleep almost immediately.

I shoot up in bed, my heart racing and my body soaked in sweat as phantom pains wrack my body with tremors. I sit with my back pressed against the wall and bury my face in my hands, feeling wetness on my cheeks. _For fuck’s sake_. Even after all these years…I sigh, scrubbing at my cheeks and feeling like the most pathetic piece of shit on the planet. That’s what I am, after all—a failure. Pathetic and weak.

Their words from so long ago ring in my ears as I climb out of bed, stumbling to the kitchen by the streetlights streaming in through the windows. A shout carries up from the street. A car horn blares.

I open the fridge, pulling out the half-empty bottle of whiskey scowling at the old slice of pizza as my stomach growls. Sighing, I pull it out and take a bite, not bothering to heat it up in the ancient microwave—too hungry to care.

A siren wails in the distance. Firetruck, it sounds like. I wonder how fast this place would burn. It’s pretty old—probably full of flammable material. It’d likely be engulfed in minutes.

I turn on the TV, knowing I won’t be getting any more sleep tonight, and take another bite of the cold pizza with a swig of whiskey. I sigh again as it burns down my throat, numbing my frayed nerves and slowing my heart rate to something more normal.

In past years, when nightmares would keep me awake into the early hours of the morning, I would write. That was then, though. I don’t write anymore—not for anyone or anything. I read my words, though. Sometimes, when I’m sad enough or drunk enough, I read the words of a bullied kid who fell in love with his abuser. That’s only when I feel rock bottom under my soles and I don’t care about ever crawling out again. Those are the days I keep the medicine cabinet locked and the knives hidden from my self.

Kicking my feet up, I finish the pizza and take another long swallow from the bottle, licking a stray drop from my bottom lip. I set the bottle on the floor beside me, laying my head back on the armrest as some rerun of some show I’ve never heard of plays on the screen.

Getting tired of after barely a minute or two, Ipress mute and flip to the local news where I'm instantly met with footage of flames shooting from the roof of an old, rundown house. The address runs across the bottom of the screen. About a block away…huh. Probably a meth lab explosion.

Firefighters run back and forth—pulling people out of the house and holding hoses pointed at the flames.

The time in the top corner tells me it’s 2:24 am. I’d hate to be the families of the firefighters—worrying about them even as they’re running into burning buildings to save the people who can’t get out.

In my experience, it’s easier just not loving at all.

My gut clenches as thoughts of _him_ force their way in, the stale feeling of betrayal leaving a bitter taste in my mouth even now. Pushing those thoughts away, I take one more swig from the bottle before screwing on the lid and putting it back in the fridge. I sigh as I look at the empty shelves—I’ll have to get some groceries tomorrow if I want to avoid starving.

Dragging my feet back to the couch, I glance at the TV and freeze. That face—those eyes and those lips. That nose with the smattering of freckles. It’s soot and sweat covered and there’s a cut on his forehead, but I’d know that face anywhere, even after almost a decade. With my heart thundering in my chest, I stab at the power button as a whole new kind of fear shoots through me—one I’m not used to feeling for him.

Dean Winchester makes me fear him, not fear _for_ him. But I can’t help it, even after all these years, because _he’s_ the one running into the burning buildings. _He’s_ risking his life for other people. I shouldn’t care; not after the hell he put me through—all the heartbreak. I mean, he _is_ the one who pushed me to—

I slam the door on those thoughts and push everything Dean Winchester related out of my head. For the time being anyway—I never was any good at forgetting him.

I dig my phone from my pocket and stare at the dark screen, debating whether or not calling Gabriel is a good idea. After a few minutes of deliberation, I dial his number and wait for him to pick up.

“Heya Cassie. Miss me or something?” Gabriel says on the other end and I smile, feeling a little better just from hearing his voice. “It’s gotta be—what? Three o’clock in the morning there?”

“Yes, around there.” Gabriel doesn’t ask why I’m awake; he’s woken me up from enough nightmares to know the answer. “How’s college life?”

“Professor’s an ass, the only hot guy on campus is a little prude—well, I say little but the guy’s a freakin’ Sasquatch—and all the parties are lame. Life’s pretty good, brother. How’re things in the shit hole we call Home Sweet Home?”

I fully intend to talk about the store and my apartment. I do—really, but that’s not what pops out of my mouth when I open it. “I saw him—on TV, I mean. He’s um…he’s a firefighter, I guess…” I trail off, knowing I said the wrong thing as soon as it slips off my tongue. Gabriel is quiet for a few moments and I don’t break it.

“What’d you do when you saw him?”

“Turned off the TV.” I run my fingers through my already wild mess of dark hair and look at the black screen.

“Good.” Gabriel is silent again for about a minute before he starts ranting. “That’s just like him too. The egotistical piece of shit—always looking for glory and praise. All he does is wave his hose around, just like he did in high school, and—”

The call cuts out. At least, that's what I’ll tell Gabe.

_DEAN_

My head pounds with every step I take to the truck. Partly from the smoke and partly from the stress. Ever since the accident, they’ve pretty much been a constant presence whenever I’m on the job. Like an annoying coworker. My prescription pain meds are too strong to take when I’m on shift so over the counter pills will have to do.

I toss back a couple of ibuprofen and take a swig from my water bottle, letting out a sigh when my eyes land on the burnt-out meth house. Can’t say I’m too surprised about this one; cops have been having trouble with them for years. That’s not my business though—I’m just here to put out the fires and drag out the dumbass who passed out on their couch.

This particular dumbass suffered third-degree burns, having been right next to the stove when the explosion happened, but he’ll live, and he’ll probably be back to cooking as soon as he’s out of the hospital and on his feet.

“We done, Chief?” I shout through the window. He waves a hand at me and I turn to look at Benny as he climbs into the driver's seat beside me.

“We good?” His thick accent fills the cabin and I nod, pulling down the sun visor and opening the mirror. Soot covers my face, smearing with the sweat and blood seeping out of the cut on my forehead from a falling beam. I sigh, closing the visor and sitting back in my seat. I’ll deal with it at home. “Well, that was a shit show if I ever saw one,” Benny says, glancing over at me.

“They’ll be back at it by the end of the week. People in this neighborhood never change.” Benny just nods.

“There’s a bar not too far from here—cheap booze. Care to get a drink?” I’m exhausted and sore but what the hell?

“Yeah, sure.” I toss my helmet in the back seat before shrugging out of my jacket. The dark blue t-shirt underneath is soaked through with sweat but I probably still smell better than most of the people living around here.

Benny pulls into a place called The Devil’s Trap and throws the truck in park before jumping out. I follow, smirking at the little flower shop next door. _Buzzing Bee Flowers_. It’s so out of place here that it makes me wonder what kind of person in their right mind would open it in this neighborhood. I’ll have to stop in some time to check it out.

Throwing open the door, we’re immediately assaulted with cigarette smoke and loud music pumping from the speakers in every corner of the room. A TV on the back wall has a poker game playing, a crowd huddled around it. The scuffed bar runs along almost the entire back wall, only ending at the TV next to a hallway that, I’d assume, leads to the washrooms. There's a pool table off to the side and tall, round tables scattered throughout the space.

Benny leads me over to the bar, our heavy boots stomping on the scuffed and dented wood floors as we go.

The bartender—scrawny guy with a mullet and a dazed look in his bloodshot eyes—sets down two beers in front of us before shuffling to the other end to serve someone else.

“Got any plans for tomorrow?” Benny asks as he wipes the foam out of his mustache before stroking his beard.

“Yeah, Lisa's got me looking after her kid while she’s on a date,” I say and roll my eyes. “I don’t know why she bothers; we both know it’s me who’s getting in her panties at the end of the night.” I flash him a smirk before taking a swig of my beer. It’s not overly cold but it’s not too bad.

“The things you do for sex, brother. I’ll never understand.” He shakes his head and pats my shoulder.

“Nah, the kids pretty cool—I don’t mind, and Lisa’s fucking hot, not to mention an animal in the sheets.” I shrug and finish off my beer in quick gulps. I’m ready to get home, get in the shower, and crawl into bed.

A chill runs down my spine as I feel eyes on me. Glancing in the direction of the poker game, my eyes lock on a pair of cloudy blue’s that seem to pop out of the guy’s head. He licks his lips as he stares, stroking the grey-tinged scruff on his long, gaunt face, too thin from too many drugs and not enough actual food. I can’t see the rest of him from where I’m sitting, but it's probably just as thin and sickly as his face. His short brown hair is matted to his head with sweat and grease. Another shiver makes its way through me as I look away.

Benny and I seem to be on the same page as he downs the rest of his beer and stands, raising his arms above his head as his burly shoulders stretch the fire jacket he never bothered taking off.

The cool air nips at my exposed skin but it’s not too bad even as the sweat starts to cool on my skin. Benny drives us both back to the station to change out of our uniforms, and since we’re both off for the next three days after our four-day stretch, I plan to spend at least the next twelve hours passed out in bed.

The station is bustling with people as fire hoses are hung up and gear is cleaned and stored away. I shed the rest of my suit and toss it in the laundry cart to be cleaned before heading to the Chief’s office.

Rufus Turner has been Chief at Lawrence Fire Station for over thirty years. His dark skin is wrinkled and weathered from years on the job and his old eyes hint at horrors that most couldn’t even imagine.

He’s sitting at his desk, his jacket tossed in the corner and the straps of his pants hung around his hips but his helmet still rests on his head as he stares at the computer screen.

“Chief?” I knock on the open door.

“Yeah, son? You need something?” He doesn’t look away from the screen, clicking the mouse every now and then as he writes up his report.

“Did you need me to do anything before I go?” He finally turns away from the monitor and looks me up and down.

“Nah, you gave the interview. Get going—get some sleep. I’ll see you back in a few days.” I nod, backing out of the office and walking down the hall, but before I can get too far, he calls me back.

“Yeah, Chief?” I say, back in the doorway.

“Leave some flowers at your momma’s grave for me when you go tomorrow, would ya?” Shit, that’s what I was forgetting.

“Yeah, of course. Night, Chief.”

“Night, Captain.”

Baby rumbles smoothly under me as I turn her over, shifting into reverse and pulling out onto the road. The pain in my head has dulled to an ache by now, both due to the ibuprofen and the beer. It’s only a ten-minute drive from the station to my one-story home, but tonight it feels like an eternity before I pull into the driveway and drag my feet to the front door, my eyes sliding closed as I walk. I drop my keys three times, growling in frustration before finally getting the key in the lock and letting myself in.

The house is dark but I don’t bother turning on the lights as I kick off my boots and toss my old leather jacket in the corner before navigating the halls to my bedroom and into the bathroom, not even stopping to grab a towel from the linen closet in the hallway.

I turn on the shower, letting it heat up as I strip out of my clothes. I wash quickly, scrubbing away the dirt and soot and blood before stepping out and grabbing a towel from the hamper to dry off. I brush my teeth in front of the sink, leaning forward to examine the cut on my forehead; gingerly touching it and hissing when it stings. It’s not too deep though—not deep enough for stitches, anyway. I finish brushing my teeth before grabbing my first aid kit and taping it shut. The last thing I need is to get blood all over my pillows.

I leave the bathroom, turning out the light, and fall naked into my bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.

I jerk awake with a sharp stinging in my ass cheek, looking over my shoulder to see a bright red handprint. Sam snickers to my left as he rifles through my dresser for some clothes as I glare at the back of his head.

“Bitch,” I snap, rubbing my sore asscheek.

“Jerk.” He tosses a pair of boxers at me before continuing. “Get up, we’re getting breakfast then going to visit Mom and Jess.” He tosses a pair of jeans at me before leaving the room, letting me get dressed in peace. I pull on the boxers and jeans and find a t-shirt and red flannel to wear before changing the tape on my forehead to a band-aid.

“How’d you even get in _my_ house?” I grumble, pouring some coffee into a mug. At least he made himself useful.

“You left the door unlocked, Asshole.” Sam sips at his own coffee, resting his elbows on the island and holding the cup between his hands. “Besides, I have a key, remember?” I make a face but don’t respond, taking a sip of my scalding coffee before setting it down to cool. “Heard there was a fire last night.”

“Yeah. Meth lab explosion. Everyone got out alive but the burns were pretty bad and I got this,” I say, pointing to the band-aid on my head. “Anyway, we should get going.”

Sammy nods, waiting as I grab my wallet and keys and pull on my boots before picking my jacket up from the corner of the entryway. We get into the Impala, not bothering to take both cars since we’re going to the same place.

“How’s school? You gotta go back tomorrow?” I pull onto the road and head to Bela's Breakfast Bistro.

“Yeah, I have class tomorrow and I need to meet my TA to go over some stuff for a test. I’ll be back for Christmas though; right after my exams.” Sammy smiles over at me, his shaggy hair blowing in the wind from his open window.

I nod, my chest swelling with pride at all his accomplishments. He’s been through so much; from losing Jess in a car accident and Dad to suicide—he hasn’t had it easy. Not to mention the drugs he got into after all that. My stomach still boils with anger at the mention of the name Ruby.

But he’s top of his class at Stanford now and well on his way to becoming a lawyer. He did good for himself.

I pull into the café’s parking lot, finding a spot near the back before getting out and walking to the entrance, making sure to lock her up first. I look around the inside, spotting Bela as soon as she sees us. She shoots me a wink before turning back to her conversation with a customer.

We eat fast, Sam talking about Stanford and his TA, Gabriel, and his classes—how much he’s loving them. He doesn’t mention any girls, though, which isn’t really a surprise—Sam hasn't dated since Jess.

Bela comes over to say hi before getting back to work as we finish up and pay. I drive towards the cemetery where Mom and Jess are buried and we’re almost there when I remember Rufus asked me to pick up flowers for him. Shit. The cemetery is near the site of last night’s fire and not too far from that new flower shop beside the bar. Making a quick left, I head in that direction, getting a confused frown from Sam but not bothering to explain.

I park outside the flower shop and get out, looking up at the black and yellow sign with a small smile as something nags at me in the back of my mind. I try to focus on it—to remember—but it slips away before I can. I push through the door, hearing a bell tinkle as I step inside, before the cloying scent of flowers assaults my nose.

I scan the store, seeing hundreds of flowers that I couldn’t even dream of naming. A woman with dark hair that brushes her shoulders and bright blue eyes comes out of the back. She’s wearing a black and yellow striped shirt and a green apron with her name stitched in black at the top. _Hannah_.

“Hello, what can I do for you.” Her voice is as stiff as her smile, but her eyes are kind.

“I need two bouquets of flowers. Not sure what kind but one’s for my mom and one’s for my brother’s girlfriend. Got any suggestions?”

“Well, we have a variety of bouquets to chose from…” I don’t hear anything she says after that, because, _holy fuck_ …the guy that walks out of the back room is _hot_. Messy black hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s tall—not as tall as me—at least six foot and _tanned_. His shoulders stretch the ridiculous striped shirt as he reaches around his back to tie the green apron around his trim waist. I glance at the black cursive at the top and smile at the peculiar name.

 _Castiel_.

_CASTIEL_

My eyes widen to the point of almost popping out of my head when I look up and see _him_. My fear; so ingrained it’s practically instinctual, hits me so fast and so hard that I have to force myself not to tuck-tail and run, taking a deep breath to calm the nausea burning my stomach.

His eyes hold a familiar heat—one I’ve seen before but not often. One I’ve tried for years to forget because it hurts so much to remember the betrayal. I look over his shoulder and sigh. Good, Sam’s here—he won’t do anything with Sam here.

I _really_ want to turn around and run back to my office—hide until he leaves—but this is _my_ store and I will _not_ be made to feel afraid in my own store.

“Oh, good, Castiel. Could you help these two find two bouquets? I was just about to take my break.” I glare at Hannah, contemplating saying no, but this isn’t her problem—it’s mine. Taking a deep breath, I nod as Sam’s head snaps in my direction and recognition flashes in his eyes before they shit back to Dean, looking warily at his brother who is still staring at me like he wants to eat me. It makes me sick.

“Hey, Castiel, long time no see,” Sam says, his voice hesitant as he eyes Dean. “Do you remember Cas, Dean?” Dean frowns, his eyebrows furrowing as he shakes his head. Really? _Really?_

“No, should I?” He looks at Sam in confusion and there’s something in his eyes…something questioning that stops me from lashing out at him. My confusion grows.

“You went to school together; were in the same grade, actually. He was your tutor?” Sam raises his voice in a question but Dean just frowns harder and looks at me.

“I’m sorry…I don’t—I don’t remember you.” He looks so genuinely sad that the sting of being forgotten is diminished a little and I sigh.

“It’s okay, we weren't close.” Not really, anyway—I was only in love with you.

Dean's face doesn’t relax—he stares hard at my face, getting more and more frustrated as the seconds tick by on the grandfather clock behind the counter.

“It’s okay, Dean.” Sam lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly as his eyes flood with sadness. “It’s okay.”

I tilt my head to the side, more confused than ever as Dean shakes his head and turns to the flowers, walking away to the front of the store. I look to Sam when he moves to stand beside me, seeming to understand the unspoken question.

“He was in a car accident in his senior year of high school—it by a transport truck on the highway. I guess Dean tried to avoid a deer or something? Anyway, he was in a coma for a couple of months; he suffered some significant brain damage and lost his memories because of it. They’re slowly coming back though—most of them, but he’s still forgetful and he gets these—these migraines. He’s mostly healed but…he hasn’t been the same since.” Sam shrugs, forcing back the emotions that Dean’s accident obviously digs up. Something tightens in my chest and I almost feel sorry for him—almost. Then I remember the hell he put me through and the anger returns, forcing out any other feelings I might have had otherwise.

I nod, not saying anything as I lead Sam to a bucket holding tiger lilies of all colors, trying to ignore the way he stares at me while I talk “These are very beautiful. Extremely popular with women. I would recommend these.” Sam nods, fingering an orange petal.

“We’ll take two bouquets of the pink. Five in each, I guess.” I nod, gathering ten pink lilies and taking them to the counter to cut and wrap in silver plastic, tying a ribbon at the bottom to hold them all together. Dean is back by the time I give them the total, pulling out his wallet and handing over a credit card. I can feel his eyes on me as I swipe the card and our fingers brush as he takes it back.

I jerk away a little too fast, feeling my skin tingle from the contact as my cheeks heat. I busy myself with arranging the flowers behind the counter as I wait for the bell above the door to chime. When it does, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and my shoulders sag.

“Castiel?” I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of a soft voice. Whipping around, I stare hard at Dean who just looks at me with curious, and slightly nervous eyes. I don’t say anything—just raise an eyebrow and wait for him to speak. “Did you want to get coffee sometime, maybe? You know, catch up?” A small grin curves those full lips and a fluttering starts in my stomach. It’s quickly taken over by anger.

“Why would I want to do that?” I snap, glaring into those green eyes.

“Well, I just thought—”

“We weren’t friends, Dean. You bullied me,” I raise both my eyebrows at him and watch as his face falls, horror shining in his eyes.

“I thought—”

“You beat me up on a weekly bases. Made fun of me and shoved me into lockers…” I clench my molars, feeling my face heat up. “Yeah, I was your tutor but I didn't have a choice. God, you…you made me—” I cut myself off, not able to think about what he caused me to do, even after all these years.

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” he whispers and he looks genuinely apologetic but that doesn’t fix this. Too much damage has been done.

“It’s not enough.” It’ll never be enough. He gets that determined set to his jaw that he always got just before he threw his first punch. It’s so familiar that I cringe on reflex. He doesn’t notice though—too caught up in his thoughts. “Please leave,” I whisper, feeling my eyes flood with burning tears.

“Cas, I—”

“Get out!” I’m trembling, my breaths coming too fast as a panic attack starts to close in. Spots start to flood my vision and a few seconds later I hear the bell above the door chime as Dean leaves. I sink to the floor and fall apart.

_DEAN_

As soon as I step out of the store, my stomach heaves and I run for the ally, just barely managing to keep my breakfast from making a second appearance. Sam is beside me in seconds, rubbing my back and rambling about headaches and dehydration in my ear.

When nothing comes up and I’m confident that it won’t anytime soon, I straighten and wipe my forehead, not feeling any better than I did before.

 _You bullied me_.

The words echo in my head the entire drive to the cemetery, but they can't be true—they can’t. I wouldn’t—I couldn’t…but the look in his eyes…the pain and the anger and the—the _betrayal_. Shit…I was a bully. How is this the only thing I don’t remember? Yeah, my high school years are fuzzy, but this? _Shit_.

“I—I bullied him, Sammy! How could I—how could I _do_ that? God, I’m a horrible person,” I whisper the last part to myself but Sam still hears me and I watch his face fall through blurry eyes.

“You were going through a tough time, Dean. I was on drugs, Dad just died and we were still getting our crap together—you know that.” Sam’s voice is placating but it doesn’t help in the slightest.

“Don’t make excuses for me. What I did to him…fuck, Sammy.” I shake my head. “You didn't see his face. The look in his eyes…fuck!” Everything I thought I knew about myself shifts. I was a bully. I hurt people for no reason other than the fact that my life was shit.

I step out of the car at the cemetery, clutching one of the bouquets to my chest as I wander through the paths to Mom’s grave as Sammy veers off to go see Jess’s.

I set the new bouquet down and clear away some leaves from around her grave. “Hey, Mom,” I whisper as a sad smile curves my lips. I take a deep, shuddering breath and blow it out through my teeth. “I put out a fire last night. Saved everyone inside.” My heart clenches. “You would’ve been proud, I think, that I saved them all.” I tuck my hands in my pockets and kick at the yellow grass, looking at the ground as I speak.

“I did something, Mom. In high school. You would be so disappointed in me—I know it.” _I’m_ disappointed in me. “I don’t remember doing it, which makes it worse. I can’t even apologize properly because I don’t remember what I’m sorry for.” I wipe a tear from my cheek and sniffle. “But I _am_ sorry and I’m gonna make it up to him, Mom—I will. I don’t know how yet, but I will.” I smile, kissing my fingers and pressing them to the top of the cold marble. “I miss you. I wish you were here.”

 ~*~*~*~

I drop Sammy off at the airport that night before heading to Lisa’s. Ben and I play video games and order pizza for dinner and I make sure he’s in bed before Lisa gets home.

I’m dozing off on the couch, my eyes drooping and my head getting heavy when I hear the front door open. Sitting upright, I’m very much awake when Lisa walks in, her tight black dress hugging her curves and showcasing those long legs in her black heels. Her long brown hair sways as she looks in my direction. Getting up off the couch, I walk towards her and smile when I see that she’s alone.

“He’s not staying?” I smirk, drinking her in.

Her eyes dance as she smiles. “Why? Do you want me to call him back? Have a threesome maybe?” I think it over and it actually doesn't sound like a bad idea. “I was kidding. He wouldn’t be into that.” I roll my eyes as she shuts the door behind her. “Ben’s asleep?” I nod, crowding into her space and resting my head on her forehead as I lift her into my arms. “Someone’s eager,” she whispers against my mouth while combing her fingers through my hair, giving it a little tug.

“Someone’s talking too much,” I say in a rough voice before closing my lips over hers. A soft moan escapes my lips as she grinds down on my hardening cock. I press her into the wall and grind down, smirking when her breath hitches. In one swift move, I toss her over my shoulder and head for the stairs as a startled cry escapes her.

“Dean!” I snicker as I walk up the stairs, moving one hand up her legs and between her thighs to find her panties already wet. I stiffen to the point of aching as my dick rubs against the zipper of my jeans.

Moving her panties aside, I slowly push one finger into her slick heat, pumping slowly has her breaths catch, coming out in soft moans. Reaching her bedroom, I close the door behind us and flip the lock before flinging her onto the bed where she lands, bouncing a little before settling.

Pulling off my flannel and t-shirt, I drop them to the floor before crawling up between her legs. Her chest heaves as I push her dress up around her hips and gaze down at the lacy black panties.

I drag her panties down her legs, leaving them around her ankles as I bury my face between her thighs again, licking a long swipe up her slit and relishing in the moan that bursts out of her. I lap her up, knowing exactly how she likes it as I run my hands over her soft thighs.

When she almost there, I pull back, leaving her sweating and shaking. She growls in frustration as I rip open my jeans and pull them down just far enough to release my aching cock, stroking it a few times as pre-come leaks from the tip. I don’t even bother to undress her—she likes it better when I leave her clothes on.

Fishing a condom from my wallet, I roll it on and lift her legs, placing her knees over my shoulders with her panties still around her ankles and push into her slowly grunting with each thrust as she whimpers.

I lean forward and grip her thighs, clenching my teeth and closing my eyes as pleasure starts building inside me, spreading out from my groin. “Dean…”

But it’s not Lisa’s long brown hair and big brown eyes I see when I come. Instead, it’s wild black hair and wide blue eyes. Innocent eyes…trusting eyes. It’s not my imagination—I know that for sure—it’s a memory. Of Cas. His eyes blinking open before falling closed again as his jaw goes slack, whining my name as I hold his knees over my shoulders, pounding into him hard and fast. Loving it—hating that I loved it. Hating him for making me love it because _I’m not gay,_ _dammit!_ ”

Cas’s face tenses as he cries out, sending me over the edge with a few more thrust as he—no _Lisa_ —clenches around me in orgasm.

I fall forward, shaking as the orgasm rolls through me as I lay there in shock.

I had sex with Castiel? _Jesus_ _Christ_. I’m too exhausted to think about what happened, though, and pass out without even getting rid of the condom.

I wake a few hours later. The condom's gone and Lisa is sleeping on my chest. Something in my stomach recoils from the contact and I get up quickly, jostling her enough that her eyes open. I don’t look back as I gather my clothes and get dressed.

“I’ve got a work thing in a couple of weeks, would you mind watching Ben?” She boosts herself up on her elbows, the sheet falling to reveal a dusky nipple. I look away and throw on my shirt.

“What’s the date?”

“The twenty-fifth. It’s a Sunday.” I pull out my phone and check my work schedule.

“Yeah, sure—I don’t work that day. What time did you want me here?” I pull on my flannel and socks.

“Eight? It’ll go until eleven or so, but after…” She raises an eyebrow and smirks, letting the sheet fall a little more and biting her bottom lip.

“Definitely,” I breathe, turning away before I jump back into bed with her for another round. I know I can’t—otherwise, I’ll be here until morning and that would be bad for everyone involved. I walk out, feeling a little aroused and a little off balance as blue eyes flash in my mind, doing more for my aching cock than Lisa’s entire body ever has.


	2. I Hate You, I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've had a shitty day and I finished this early so I'm posting it now. Ughhh I hope this makes you want to read more! Your comments bring joy to my life.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of past suicide attempt, mentions of past bullying/violence/cyberbullying.

**_December 14, 2009_ **

_CASTIEL_

My ribs ache with every breath but I try to ignore the sharp, stabbing pain as I walk through the halls with my head down and my shoulders hunched. My eye is purple and swollen and I tell anyone who asks that I tripped and hit my face on the corner of my desk. They don’t even think twice about believing me.

I’ve managed to avoid the football team this week but the day isn’t over yet. One more period. One more hour until the weekend. My knee smarts with every step but it’s not nearly as bad as it could be. They usually don’t wait this long for me to heal before using me as their punching bag again.

Even though I’ve been able to avoid them at school, I haven’t been so lucky online. They’ve started a Facebook page dedicated to me called _What Kind of Name is Castiel?_ , tagging me in every picture and every post. I try not to let them get to me—try to put their hateful words down to their own self-loathing—but they know exactly where to hit to cause the most damage.

_No one likes you. Why haven’t you killed yourself yet?_

_Stupid little cocksucker has AIDS!_

_Not even your dad wants you! No one likes you, Castiel! Just kill yourself already!_

_No one's ever gonna love your gay ass. Do us all a favor and drink a bottle of bleach already._

Someone had even sent one to my house with a note saying, _Drink Me, Fag._ I almost did drink it.

The worst ones are Dean’s. For some reason when it’s him telling me to kill myself, it hurts so much worse and I actually, seriously think about doing it just to give him what he wants.

The bell rings and the halls empty. I curse my injured knee for slowing me down and leaving me alone in these halls. Picking up my pace a little, I turn a corner and I’m slammed into the lockers, my head snapping back and connecting with the cold metal. I groan in pain as I’m lifted off my feet.

“Thought you'd get off this week, did you?” Lucas smirks before slamming me against the locker again, shaking a pained yelp from my throat. “Little queer thought we let him off for once.” The rest of them laugh, relishing the way I shake with fear. I try to steady myself but it’s no use as a knee connects with my groin and I yelp, doubling over in pain before I’m slammed onto the ground and kick after kick lands on my already battered and bruised ribs.

 

_DEAN_

“You’re already late, Sammy; slow down!” I chuckle and ruffle his hair, smirking when he bats my hand away and glowers at me.

“Piss off,” he growls, hurrying ahead of me. I hear a locker door slam ahead of me and think nothing of it until Sam turns the corner and shouts before disappearing. A pained cry reached my ears but it’s not Sammy’s—it _is_ familiar though. Fuck.

Turning the corner, I watch as Sam shoves Lucas, sending him back a few steps before he turns on Sammy. Oh, _hell_ no. He grabs Sam by the collar of his flannel shirt and slams him into a locker, lifting him off his feet. “So, you’re next are you?” There’s no fear in Sammy’s bloodshot eyes but I still see red. No one touches Sammy.

I slam Lucas against the locker when I reach them, pressing my forearm into his throat as I glare at him dangerously. “Touch him and I’ll rip your throat out,” I spit before taking a step back and letting him go. “None of you touch my brother or I’ll kill you, got it.” They don’t respond but I know their answer. “Get out of here.” I watch them walk away until they’re out of sight before turning back to my brother.

“You good?” I watch as he bends down to help Cas up. Cas looks at his hand uncertainly before reaching out with shaky fingers, taking Sam’s help and letting himself be pulled to his feet. Cas sways and I roll my eyes. “Sam. You good?”

“Fine,” he snaps, glaring at me over his shoulder as he holds Cas up. He’s only a little shorter than Cas but the way Cas is holding himself—curling his shoulders in protectively—makes Sam seem so much bigger. “Your friends are assholes, Dean. What'd he ever do to them?” My head shoots back on my neck as I stare at him, my eyebrows in my hairline. Cas hasn’t actually _done_ anything. He’s just there—an easy target to take out my anger on.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to you being okay,” I snap before pivoting on my heel and heading to class. It’s just part of the hierarchy. I'm part of the group that gets to pick on people—Cas just happens to be part of the group that gets picked on—that’s just the way it is.

Right? _Right?_

 

**_November 3, 2018_ **

_CASTIEL_

I’m in the back room when the bell above the door chimes, and I sigh,picking up the bucket of poinsettias and making my way to the front of the store. I almost drop the entire bucket when I see who it is, my heart jumping into my throat.

My feet seem to lose all ability to function as every muscle in my body tightens. _What the hell is he doing here?_ Setting down the bucket before it ends up all over the floor, I glare at Dean from behind the counter.

“What?” I snap, grinding my molars as anger boils in my stomach. His face falls at the bite in my tone and I shouldn’t feel bad—I really, _really_ shouldn’t—but there’s a tiny stab of guilt that follows.

“I, um…I came to apologize,” he says, looking me in the eyes. I hold his gaze, narrowing my own eyes a little more.

“Get out,” I snap.

“And,” he holds up a finger, looking around him for something before grabbing the bucket of poinsettias. “To buy…these,” he says, his smile timid and his eyes nervous. I can’t help raising a teasing eyebrow even if my lips stay firmly pressed in a straight line.

“They’re called poinsettias.”

“Yes, poinsettias. I want to buy them,” he says, giving a definitive nod as he pulls out his wallet. I sigh, running my fingers through my hair and noticing how Dean’s eyes follow the movement. I cash him out, giving him the total and taking his credit card when he hands it over. He tucks the flowers under his arm after putting his wallet back in his pocket and then just stands there. “I’m sorry, Cas—for every shitty thing I ever did to you. I’m sorry,” he says and he _does_ look sorry. His eyes are wide and pleading and sincere, but that’s not the problem. The problem is he doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for—he doesn’t remember.

“Get out.”

“But I—”

“Out,” I jab my finger at the door and narrow my eyes.

“Cas—” 

“Do you really think your apologies mean anything to me? You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, and if you did, you wouldn’t have the audacity to show up here—so, get out,” I snap, glaring at his bewildered expression.

“Then tell me what I did!” he pleads, his one free hand shooting out at his side. “Tell me so I can apologize. I—I…” He shakes his head, looking so lost.

“No,” I say before spinning on my heel and hurrying back to the back room as my stomach turns. There’s not a chance in hell I’m dragging it all back up just so he can clear his conscience. Not a fucking chance.

I barely make it over the toilet before my lunch comes back up.

 

_DEAN_

“Hey, Charlie?”

“Yeah”

“Do you remember a guy named Castiel from high school?” I try to sound as unbothered as I can but my voice reaches a few octaves too high to be _unbothered_. Damn.

She stares at me for a long time, an incredulous look on her face, before she suddenly looks away, setting up the board game on her coffee table and refusing to meet my eyes. “Of course.” But she doesn’t elaborate.

“Okay…what’s his deal?” Her head whips around and she glares at me for a moment before seeming to remember something and turning away again.

“Like, why does he hate your guts?” I frown but nod anyway. “You were the biggest douche canoe I’ve ever met in high school. I’ve told you that before.” I roll my eyes but don’t argue. I don’t remember high school well but enough people have told me this that I’ve stopped arguing with them.

“Okay, so what’d I do? Tease him a little?” I raise an eyebrow and take a sip of my beer as I lean back on her white leather sectional, tossing one arm over the back and kicking my feet up on the table. That gets me another glare but I ignore it.

“No, you made him fall in love with you.” I choke on my beer, sputtering as it comes out my nose from the sheer shock of that revelation. _What?_ No way. She’s lying—she has to be—but the deathly serious expression on her face and the sadness in her eyes tells me it’s not a lie.

“I—what?”

“Well, you abused him for most of high school—shoving him into lockers and beating the crap out of him in locker rooms and stuff. You even had this stupid Facebook group dedicated to making fun of him—but then in senior year…well, you started failing classes—”

“And he was my tutor. Sam told me that part.” I look at her with eager eyes, my elbows resting on my knees and my hands clasped in front of me—the beer set aside in favor of answers.

“Yeah…” She sighs, taking a moment before continuing. “Anyway, you were nice to him when he tutored you. You spoke to him like a person and not…not like he was the shit on your shoe. He fell in love with you and you two…” She pauses, watching me warily and leaning back in the chair across from me—the game long forgotten.

“We had sex?” I hedge and she blows out a long breath.

“That’s what he told me.” Okay, _what?_ —I knew they were friends, but that's pretty private information to be sharing. “Then something must’ve happened—I don’t know what; he wouldn’t tell me. Only said that you turned on him. Next thing I know, he’s moving across the country—wouldn’t tell me what happened, just it was your fault.” She shrugs and takes a sip of her own beer.

Jesus Christ. “How are you even sitting with me right now? How do you not hate me as much as he does?”

“I did in high school but after your accident, you seemed different. You stopped hanging out with those Novak douchebags and you stopped turning your nose up at me every time you saw me. I took a chance and I was right, wasn’t I? I got a best friend out of it.” She shrugs again and smirks, grabbing a cookie off the plate and stuffing the whole thing in her mouth. I stare at her for a long time. There’s something else; something she’s not telling me.

I don’t speak and neither does she as I contemplate everything she said. For whatever reason the thought of me and Cas doesn’t make my stomach turn and instead does the opposite—lighting a fire that spreads out from my groin, heating my skin and making my heart pound with desire. Right from the moment I saw him in his store yesterday, I felt it. The slow burn of desire rolling through me. Cas is hot—from his wild dark hair to those wide, innocent blue eyes. From the top of his head to the tip of his toes, everything about him is ridiculously attractive and I’d have to be dead to not notice.

Shaking away all thoughts of Castiel Novak, I raise my eyebrows at Charlie. “Ready to get the ass whooping of your life?”

“Bring it, Pretty Boy.”

 

For the next two weeks, I go to Castiel’s store, buying whatever flower he has on the counter and attempting to apologize. I don’t know why; he doesn't say more than five words to me and nothing outside of giving me the total for the flowers and the cursory _Have A Nice Day_ before he spins on his heel and disappears into the back.

One day, when I refused to be ignored, he actually stuck his fingers in his ears and repeated _I can’t hear you!_ over and over again while running away—it was equally aggravating and adorable and I don’t know why I need his forgiveness so bad, but I do. I can’t stand the idea that I hurt him. There’s just something about _him_ and the idea of _hurting him_ that makes my stomach sour and my heart sink to the floor. And I try— _so hard_ —to get through to him but he just ignores me.

Today though…today I’ll make him listen. Today he’ll finally forgive me. I walk through the door to his store, hearing the familiar bell that signals my entrance. There are a few people inside—an old woman and her husband and three teenaged girls looking at some kind of blue flowers and chattering about winter formal. Cas is at the counter, cashing out the old woman, and Hannah is occupied with the teenagers, looking suitably overwhelmed—perfect.

I stand in line behind the woman, picking up a sunflower from the bucket next to me and holding the stem in both hands. The woman eventually turns and when Cas sees me, his face falls into an expression of thinly veiled anger—he doesn’t say anything though.

I set the sunflower on the counter and don’t wait for him to give me the price before handing him my card.

I hold the flower back out to him and he takes it, looking at me with confusion and a little annoyance.

“It’s for you. I remembered they’re your favorite.” I smile a little at him. “They make you feel sunny and they grow so tall that you feel like you could climb them to get away from the world.”

He glares at me but there’s something else in his eyes—something softer. It’s gone in an instant though, replaced by bitter annoyance. “Why would I want a flower?” He gestures around us at the rest of the space. “I have thousands already.”

I don’t have an answer for that one. “I’m sorry, Cas, and before you say I don’t know what I’m apologizing for, Charlie told me everything,” I hold my breath, waiting for a reply.

“Charlie? Charlie Bradbury?” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

I nod. “Yeah, she’s kinda my best friend.” I shrug, watching closely for any shift in his anger.

“Charlie doesn’t know everything,” he says simply before turning away.

“Then tell me!” I yell after him before he gets too far, drawing the attention of both Hannah and the girls. Everyone is quiet—waiting. “Tell me what happened! Tell me what to do to fix it—tell me what to do so you can forgive me and we can move on,” I end on a whisper, too tired of this to yell anymore.

He turns slowly, resting both hands on the counter and leaning forward. “You know what I want from you? I want you to get out of my store and never come back. I never want to see you _ever again._ ” He never raises his voice but it shakes, holding so much barely contained rage that I flinch.

I nod, swallowing hard as I back away. “Okay.” I look at him one more time before looking down at my hands. “Okay, Cas. I'm sorry. I’ll…you won’t see me again.” He still doesn’t move so I turn around and leave. A hole opens up in my chest, leaving me empty and exhausted and stealing the breath from my lungs.

 

_CASTIEL_

Dean doesn’t come back.

It’s been over a week and I don’t know why it hurts so bad, but it does. It’s stupid—I _did_ tell him it’s what I want, but I guess I just expected him to fight a little harder for me. I should’ve known better—he’s never fought for me before. I should be happy; I never have to see him again and be reminded of what happened—what I blame him for pushing me to do, even if it wasn't his fault. But I’m not happy and it’s glaringly obvious to everyone around me.

I turn away from Hannah, feeling a stab of guilt for yelling at her about the placement of the roses, but not enough to apologize. Instead, I head for my office and close the door, sitting behind my desk with every intention of finishing my paperwork. That plan flies out the window the second I open the bottom drawer of my desk and see a wilted yellow petal sticking out.

Sighing, I pull the flower from the drawer and examine the browning petals. I don’t know why I didn’t just throw it out as soon as Dean left. I couldn’t, I guess—it _is_ a beautiful flower and Dean is right; sunflowers are my favorite. _It would be a shame to just throw out such a beautiful flower._ That’s what I tell myself anyway, but I know the truth even if I’m not willing to admit it out loud.

I loved Dean. I may convince myself that I hate him now, but at one point in my life, I loved him. I loved him enough to tell him about my favorite flower—about _why_ it’s my favorite.

I almost cracked when he told me he remembered that—almost forgave him—but then he told me what Charlie told him. Everything, apparently, but Charlie doesn’t know everything. Not the worst of it. Not even Gabriel knows the worst of what he did to me. Well…not _him,_ exactly. What _they_ did to me when he left.

I stroke the stem between my fingers, debating what to do with it. I should just throw it out—it’s dying anyway. _Yeah, but with a little water_ …

Stop it.

I continue with my inner debate until my phone rings. It’s Gabe.

“Yeah?” I say and even I can hear the weariness in my voice.

“Sounds like you’re too tired to come out with your big brother tonight. Fine, I’ll call someone else.” Gabe says with an overdramatic sigh.

“What? You’re in town?” I small bubble of excitement expands in my stomach.

“One Day Only sale! Everything must go!” I roll my eyes but my lips curve into a small smile. “Come on, Cassie! Let's hit the town! There’s this guy in one of my classes that leaves me with balls bluer than your dreamy eyes and I need to get my rocks off before my dick falls off.” I scrunch up my nose at that mental image while filling a vase and sticking the sunflower inside.

I set the vase on my desk before responding. “Fine fine. Pick me up at nine then, and you’re buying the first round.” He agrees and I hang up, feeling a little lighter than I did before.

 

My cell phone rings as I’m slipping into my favorite tan coat and pulling on my shoes. “Are you almost here?” I ask by way of a greeting.

“Oh, I’m here all right. How the fuck do I get up to your apartment?” I smirk and lock the door at the top of the stairs before making my way down and locking the door at the bottom behind me. I don’t respond, hanging up the phone and going out the back door before locking that too and walking around to the front of the building. Gabe’s car is parked at the curb with Gabe leaning against the side, staring incredulously at the yellow and black striped sign. “The signs a little overkill, don’t you think?”

Sighing, I shake my head and climb into the passenger’s seat of his car, not dignifying that with an answer. I like the sign; it makes me happy to know it’s something I designed and had made for my store—something I had complete control over. “Where are we going?” I ask instead.

“Nowhere around here,” he snips, turning his nose up at the dilapidated buildings and un-kept streets. “Somewhere where I won’t get herpes from sitting on a bar stool.”

I don’t ask any more questions, deciding to just go with it as I turn to stare out the window, watching as we pass by run-down house after run-down house. Eventually, we pull up outside a high-class club and get out. The line wraps around the building, but Gabe walks right to the front of the line, having a short conversation with the bouncer before leading me inside to the sounds of protests from everyone waiting in line. I feel a tiny bit guilty; they’ve all been waiting so much longer than us—why should we get in first just because Gabe knows the bouncer.

“He’s an old buddy from high school and he owed me a favor. Wipe that look off your face before I get back with our drinks.”

I follow him to the bar instead of waiting and by some stroke of luck, we find two barstools side-by-side. Gabe orders us both two shots and a beer but I just want to go home and pass out for a few hours before the nightmares start up again like they do every night.

For the next hour or so, Gabe places drink after drink in front of me and I’m sufficiently drunk by the time he leaves me alone to chase some guy on the dance floor. Resting my head in my hands, I close my eyes and let out a soft groan, shifting when someone pushes up to the bar beside me.

“Two beers please.” My head snaps up when I hear that voice— _his_ voice—and, sure enough, standing next to me is Dean Winchester, staring at me with a sad look in his pretty green eyes. “Heya, Cas,” he whispers, so low that I almost don’t hear him over the loud music.

I stare at him for a moment as irrational anger begins to seep in. Not the usual anger that I feel towards him—this is different, and self-loathing creeps in with it when I realize why.

I missed him—I fucking _missed_ him and it’s his fault.

“Fuck you,” I growl, getting off my barstool and stumbling towards the back hallway that leads to the washrooms and the fire exit.

“Wait!” A strong hand lands on me and I whip around, pulling my arm away as I stumble, the room spinning even when I stop moving. “What—I did what you asked. I just said hi.” His voice is so confused and sad that I feel a stab of guilt in my chest.

“That’s the point! You—you did what I asked and…and you made me miss you!” I hiss, leaning towards him a little too far and he grabs my shoulders before I nosedive into his chest.

“I don’t get it, Cas,” he looks into my eyes, searching them for something as I count the freckles on his cheeks.

“You do. Or you did—the old you knows why.” I whisper in a voice so small and so bitter that it makes Dean flinch.

“Because you loved me?” I nod, not even bothering to deny it. I did—I did love him. “But now you hate me?” This time I pause because even in my drunken state and after all the horrors he’s dumped on me, I don’t hate him. I never could, and that's the problem.

“No, I don’t hate you.” His face softens as he moves to wrap his arms around me. I struggle against him as anger surges up again. “Get off! I still don’t forgive you!” I shove at his chest, doing more to push myself into the wall than push him back. My hands shake when I lift them to wipe my face, feeling wetness for the first time. It's irrational, really. He didn't even do anything. He's a scapegoat, I realize—just like I was to him.

“Why not?”

“You ruined my life! Every horrible thing that was done to me in high school was because of you! And I should hate you! But I _can’t_ and I hate myself because of it,” I finish in a whisper as more tears streak down my cheeks. All the horrible things run through my head and, yeah, he was the cause of most of them, but the worst...that wasn't Dean's fault. Maybe that's why I'm so angry at him—why I still miss him, even after all these year—because he doesn't, and never did, know what happened to me when he walked away.

Dean wipes away the tears I miss and I’m suddenly too exhausted to fight him anymore, leaning into him instead and resting my forehead in his neck and wrapping my arms around his waist as I fall apart. Dean immediately encloses me in his arms, holding me tight and it so, _so_ comforting. I don’t know why I do it—there’s still so much I don’t have figured out when it comes to him—but something inside me has always had a weak spot when it comes to Dean; forgiving far too easily and for far too many things.

When I pull away, Dean’s neck is wet and my head is starting to pound insistently. I rest my palm on my forehead, closing my eyes as a groan escapes me. “I’m gonna be sick,” I whisper, and suddenly I'm being led out the fire exit. Cold air hits me and I immediately bend over, throwing up in the back ally while Dean watches, stroking my back with his strong hands.

When I stop vomiting, I stand up, sweating and shaking, and lean against the wall with my eyes closed. “C’mon, I'm taking you home.” I don’t argue as an arm moves around my waist and I’m led out of the ally, stumbling the whole way. Oddly, I feel completely safe with Dean Winchester, which is something I’ve never felt before in my entire life—especially not with him. It’s strange, but I like it. Something I could get used to if I’m not careful.

 

_DEAN_

Cas leans heavily against me, his entire body-weight leaning into my side, and I struggle to hold him up while unlocking the doors of his store and apartment. Deciding there’s no way we can both walk up the stairs without falling and breaking our necks, I lift him into a fireman’s hold and pray that he doesn’t throw up all over my back.

When I get us both into the apartment in one piece, I lay him down on his bed and breathe a sigh of relief that I’m not covered in vomit. I wrestle Cas out of his jacket before pulling his sweater over his head and tugging off his jeans. He only groans a little in protest when his jeans reach his ankles, but he kicks them off anyway and snuggles into his pillow as I lay a blanket over him.

When I’m finished, I look back at his face and find his glassy blue eyes watching me closely. “Why’re you being so nice?” My face screws up as a stab of annoyance hits me, but his eyes hold so much genuine confusion that I soften.

“I’m not the same person that you knew in high school, Cas. _I_ don’t even know that guy.” I sit on the edge of his bed and brush a stray strand of dark hair from his eyes. “I don’t remember much from high school, honestly. It’s all a blur,” I whisper, waving my free hand around by my head. Cas rests his hand over mine on his cheek and closes his eyes, a small smile curving his full lips.

I think he’s fallen asleep after several minutes of silence, but suddenly, his whispered words sound in the dark room, dropping like a bomb. “I’m glad I couldn’t do it.”

“Couldn’t do what?” I ask, furrowing my brows as a weight settles in my stomach.

“Kill myself after you…after you let them…after you left me with them…” He trails off, flinching and not finishing his sentence. “You know, like you kept telling me to. I’m glad I failed and got to meet this you. The good you…” His voice fades into even breaths as he sinks into a sound sleep.

My stomach, my heart…all of it drops to the floor as his meaning sinks in and tears me apart with the implications. What did I _do?_


	3. Drowning In Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This is the updated version of chapter three!!! *May 30, 2018*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovely readers! Apparently, I have no ability to make you wait when I finish chapters so here's the next one! Thank you for the wonderful comments; they bring happiness to my stressed out life. 
> 
> There's some smut near the end so...yeah. Choose to do with that what you will!
> 
> Muah muah...love you all.

**_September 18, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

“People don’t have birthday parties anymore, Mom,” I whine as she scurries around the kitchen with me following close behind. She ignores me, as she’s done for the past month every time I’ve told her that no one will come.

“Oh, nonsense! People will come! I’m sure your friends from the gardening club will show up.” What friends? Charlie has her computer programming thing this weekend and Balthazar thinks birthday parties are lame, so there go the only two people I could maybe consider friends. She spins suddenly, holding my chin in her hand and squishing my cheeks together like she always did when I was little—the only difference now is that I’m half a head taller than her. “They’ll come—you’ll see.” She presses a kiss to my cheek before snapping a party hat on my head and handing me a veggie tray to set on the island.

“Who’d you invite, anyway?” I ask while rearranging the bright yellow sunflowers she bought for the occasion.

“Oh, everyone, Dear. The gardening club, the beekeepers club, the book club, the writing group, the football team—”

“ _What?_ ” My head snaps around in horror as dread floods my stomach.

“Well, they’re your cousins, Castiel; I figure they’ll definitely show up.” Oh, they'll show up all right. “Besides, eighteen is a special birthday! You’re finally a man!”

“Men don’t have birthday parties hosted by their mom’s,” I say and instantly regret it as a look of realization settles on her face.

“You’re right! I wouldn’t want to embarrass you! Okay…” She smoothes a hand over her pristine hair and stares at me. “I’ll wait for them to get here and then I’ll go out; leave you to the festivities!” I groan inwardly—that’s not at _all_ what I wanted.

“No, that’s not what I—”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’ll be great; your first party on your own!” I don’t get another chance to argue because the doorbell rings. My heart thunders in my chest and I feel sick as my stomach somersaults before dropping to the floor. She runs for the door but I wait in the kitchen, my feet glued in place as I wait to see who rounds the corner.

To my great dismay, the pair of eyes that lock on mine is bright green and full of malicious intent. He eyes me sickeningly, seeming to plan out in his mind what he will do to me. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts in a devious smirk as he watches me. I gulp, instinctively putting the island between us when he pushes up the sleeves of his letterman jacket.

From behind Dean, the rest of the football team follows, all of their wicked plans flashing in their eyes. I almost fall to my knees and beg my mom not to go, but when Naomi Novak has made up her mind to do something, there’s no changing it.

“Anna is with her grandparents for the night so don’t worry about her—you have the whole place to yourselves. I’ll be back around midnight. Be good! Love you!” I shoot her a glare as she hurries out the door.

Then we’re alone,standing in the silence left behind. I don’t dare to move even a muscle as I listen to the front door close and the car pull out of the driveway. My heart sinks—I’m completely and utterly alone in this.

Dean looks around at the food, turning his nose up at the carrot sticks and flicking at a sunflower petal before walking slowly around the island only to stop in his tracks when he sees the pie. For a brief second, there’s a small, genuine smile on his face as he cuts a piece and puts it on one of the party plates my mom left out. It’s apple pie, and it should still be warm.

Lucas rolls his eyes at Dean before advancing on me slowly. “This is what you call a party? Seriously? Where’s the booze? The girls—oh right.” Lucas smirks with cruelty in his eyes as he comes closer, followed by Michael and Raphael as Zach and Uriel go around the other side. Dean is still distracted by the pie. “I’m actually surprised we were even invited, but, I guess that probably has more to do with your mom than you. Am I right?” He stops beside the sunflowers, lifting a finger and watching me as he knocks it over. I flinch when it hits the floor, shattering on the tiles in a million tiny pieces. Tears prick my eyes but I don’t dare to move. I made that for Mom for mothers’ day.

Anger boils in my stomach and I clench my teeth, glaring up at Lucas. Before I know what I’m doing, or that I’ve even moved, I slam into his chest, only managing to knock him back a step in my rage. Before I can go at him again, two strong arms wrap around my elbows and pin my arms behind my back.

Lucas pulls his arm back and tightens his fist. “Not his face,” Dean says from behind me. “Nowhere anyone will notice.” Lucas nods before sending his fist flying into my stomach and I double over, a grunt forced out with the air from my lungs. Over and over he hits me and I cry out in pain. Why today? It’s my _birthday_. Tears spring up at the unfairness of it all.

Can't I just have _one_ day? Just _one_ good, happy day?

When Lucas seems to get tired of hitting me, Michael takes over and by the time they’re done, I probably have some internal bleeding and won’t be able to sit up for weeks without feeling like throwing up.

“So…I see you’ve got a pool,” Dean says, looking out the patio door in the dining room. “What do you boys think about a swim?” One of Dean’s hands moves into my hair and he pulls my head back so my drooping, pain-filled eyes look up into his merciless green ones. “What do you think, fag? A swim?” He doesn’t actually let me answer before he’s dragging me to the door as the others slide it open and step aside while I’m led through.

I start to really panic, twisting and thrashing against Dean as I’m led closer and closer to the edge. Yelps of fear and pain escape me as I struggle, but they don’t stop shoving me towards the edge. Dean holds me out over the deep end, pretending to let me drop a few times before pulling me back. Then, without warning, I’m shoved over the edge, plunging into the cold water and sinking right to the bottom as I flail my arms.

It’s no use; I hit the pool floor and don’t even have the strength to push myself off the bottom. Everything hurts, and my lungs start to burn from too much pain and not enough air. Panic sets in and I frantically beat at the water around me. Dark spots dance in my eyes—I can’t hold my breath any longer and suck in a lungful of water. The burning is unbearable and the spots spread until they’re all I see. Dread fills me.

They know I can’t swim.

 

_DEAN_

I watch, confused, as Cas sinks to the bottom, his arms flailing and his legs kicking frantically but not getting him anywhere as he sinks. My eyebrows furrow as I step closer, watching him jerk before going still. Panic floods me when he stops moving, just laying at the bottom of the deep end.

“Can he swim?” I ask, looking frantically up at the guys.

“No,” Michael says with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at the dark, unmoving body.

“Jesus Christ!” I hiss, pulling off my jacket and shirt before kicking away my shoes and throwing my phone in the grass behind me.

“What are you doing?” Lucas snaps, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around.

“I’m not gonna let him drown! Prison isn’t exactly how I see the rest of my life going.” I shake him off and dive into the pool, pulling myself through the water and wrapping an arm around Cas’s shoulders before kicking off the bottom with Cas held tight against my chest. When I break the surface, I paddle with one arm to the shallow end and drag Cas onto the grass.

He’s not breathing. Fuck. “Why do you even care? He’s not worth it—” Zach says from behind me.

“Just get out of here!” I shout, not bothering to look back at them as they mutter under their breath. I start compressions, counting in my head as I stare at his pale face and blue lips. When I get to thirty, I tilt his head back and plug his nose, pressing my lips to his and blowing air into his lungs. I do this once more before continuing with the compressions. _Okay…what’s next?_ _Ambulance—call the ambulance._ I lunge across the yard, snatching my phone off the grass and dialling emergency services, giving them all the information they need before hanging up and continuing CPR.

“Come on, Cas! Come on, come on, _come on!_ ” I shout as fear races through me. Nothing happens and I start to panic, pressing down on his chest almost frantically. I feel a rib snap under my hands and for the first time, it’s not satisfying. This time hurting Cas isn’t to let out my anger—the constant boiling rage that’s always there—this time it doesn’t feel good. It’s terrifying. Tears prick my eyes as I blow two more breaths into his lungs.

Suddenly, he coughs, water spilling from his mouth as he expels it from his lungs. The tears fall—I wipe them quickly. He coughs for a solid five minutes, spitting up water and wincing with every jerk of his body.

“It’s okay, Cas. The ambulance is coming—they’ll be here any minute,” I say, hearing the sirens in the distance. I push dark, soggy strands of hair off Cas’s forehead as he looks up at me warily. A weird ache settles in my chest and I feel…protective? I don’t like it.

“Why…are you he-helping m-me?” The genuine confusion in his eyes doesn’t sit right in my stomach and a stab of guilt hits me hard. He’s never done anything to deserve the treatment he gets—never. Shame hits me like a truck and I can't meet his eyes.

“I didn’t know you can’t swim,” is all I say before moving behind him and propping him up so his back rest against my chest. He yelps in pain and I wince. “Sorry,” I whisper as he begins to shiver, cold water dripping from his hair and onto my chest as I hold him. He’s stiff, every muscle taut with tension as if he expects to be thrown back in the pool at any moment. He sniffles and a few warm drops hit my arm where they’re wrapped around his torso and I realize he’s crying.

I wait for the feeling of satisfaction to come but it doesn’t. Instead, I just feel sick. Without realizing what I’m doing, I reach up and swipe my thumb beneath his eyes, wiping the tears that wet his cheeks.

The ambulance pulls into the backyard and two paramedics jump out. “Don’t get used to this,” I growl in Cas’s ear and he shrinks away as the paramedics run over. Turning to the paramedics, I tell them what happened—well, kinda. “A bunch of us were fooling around—wrestling and stuff—and Cas got knocked into the pool. None of us noticed at first. I dove in and dragged him out—had to perform CPR and broke some of his ribs.” The paramedic nods before asking Cas a million questions while putting him on a stretcher and loading him into the ambulance.

I debate if I should go or not, but something in my chest aches at the thought of Cas going to the hospital alone and the fear in his eyes has me grabbing my stuff off the lawn and jumping in the back. We don’t speak. These feelings have gotta go; Cas is nothing to me— _nothing_. He’s fun to knock around and make fun of, but that’s it, and I like to make him cry and watch him shake when he sees me walking towards him—I like the power it gives me—the power I never had growing up. Beating on Cas is the best way to release all the pent-up anger inside me—I haven’t found a better way yet.

Everything just makes me so _angry_. Sam—into all the drugs, hanging out with the scum of Lawrence; unable to cope after Jess died. Dad—who left me alone to take care of Sam, even before he died. Too busy buried in the bottom of a bottle to put food on the table. All of it—having to grow up so fast to make sure Sammy ate and stayed out of trouble and failing even at that.

So, yeah, passing on some of that pain and anger to Cas will have to do because I sure as hell can’t shoulder it all, and if I find some enjoyment in it too, then so be it.

We arrive at the hospital and I’m sent to the waiting room while they assess Cas’s injuries. Deciding I don’t need to be here, I call a cab and have it take me home but I stand on the front porch of Bobby’s house long after the taxi has driven away. Something sour settles in my stomach when I think of how I just left Cas at the hospital with no way to get home. He almost drowned today, for fuck’s sake, and now he’s probably walking home. It’s not like he lives close to the hospital, either. It’s practically on the other side of Lawrence from him.

Making a decision, I grab my keys from the hook inside the door and jog to my car. Baby purrs under me as I press the peddle down harder and, as I pass the hospital, I keep one eye trained on the road while the other watches the sidewalk for the lanky bastard.

Eventually, my headlights shine on him about an hour’s walk out from his house. Pulling up beside him, I lean over, rolling down the window and shout, “Get in, Cas.” He just stares at me but doesn’t move. His chest looks bigger under his shirt—probably the wrap that’s holding his ribs in place while they heal. “C’mon, you can’t walk home like this.” I try for stern but instead I sound pleading. Dammit. He doesn’t argue though—just opens the door and climbs in, shifting nervously in the seat as he fastens his seatbelt and looks down at his hands.

“I thought you said not to get used to this,” he whispers but there’s a bite to it. Instead of pissing me off though, heat shoots straight to my stomach. Fuck.

“Let’s say it ends when the day does. I feel like shit for almost drowning you,” I say, turning a corner and pulling up to a stop sign.

“Ah, so this is to clear your own conscience. Didn’t think you had one.” My eyebrows shoot into my hairline at the fire in his voice and another shot of heat hits me. I flush.

“Careful what you say while you’re in _my_ car,” I growl, more angry at myself than I am at him.

“I didn't ask to be here,” he snaps and I see him glare at me from the corner of my eye.

“Whatever pain meds they gave you are making you pretty damn brave. Or stupid.” I raise an eyebrow in his direction and turn my head to look at him while stopped at a light. Reaching out, I grab on to his wild dark hair and pull his head around so his eyes meet mine. He struggles, jerking his head and narrowing his eyes as he snarls at me. I don’t pull any harder, though, like I might have done in front of the team; I just hold him there as he fights. “You’re quite the little spitfire, aren’t you?”

Something resembling respect builds inside me. No man just lays down and takes shit from someone else—at least, that’s what my dad always said—and for as long as I’ve known Cas, that’s always what I thought he did. Just roll over and take it. But this? This anger and _fire_? _This_ I respect.

Nodding, I let go of his hair and drive to his house, not saying anything more even after he closes the door behind him. I sit there for a moment or two, feeling uneasy at this newfound respect for Cas. It excited me though; maybe if I hit him hard enough, I can knock some of that fire to the surface. It’ll be fun to try, anyway.

 

**_November 18, 2018_ **

_CASTIEL_

Even with my eyes closed the light is too bright for my pounding head. I groan, berating myself for not bothering to buy curtains as a hammer pounds on the inside of my skull. My stomach turns and I drag myself over to the edge of the bed, cracking my eyes open to see a bucket held up in front of my face. I don’t have time to question how it got there before my stomach heaves and empties into the bucket.

Flopping back onto my bed when the heaving stops, I crack open an eye and see Dean standing there with worry etched into his handsome features. _Why does he have to be so goddamned good looking?_

“Do you need some Advil? Water? Food?” He shifts from foot to foot as he stares down at me nervously, ready to get me anything I ask for.

“Advil and water. No food.” My voice is a rough whisper and I cringe at the sound, clearing my throat a little but it doesn’t feel any better. There’s a sour taste in my mouth that no amount of water is going to wash away—I need a toothbrush and some toothpaste.

“Well, that’s good ‘cause you don’t have any food,” Dean calls from the kitchen as he rifles through the cupboards for a glass. He pours some water before going into the bathroom for the Advil. When he reemerges he hands me two pills and a glass of water. I struggle to sit and he immediately moves a hand to the back of my neck, holding my head steady as I swallow the pills. “I hope you don’t mind—I took an Advil too.” I raise an eyebrow. “Headaches. From the accident,” he answers as he sets the glass down on the floor.

“Why are you still here?” I grumble, not really caring that I would probably be passed out in an ally if he hadn’t helped me home.

“I’m sorry. Did you…did you want me to go? Even after what you told me?” His warm voice is somehow not as aggravating as it should be, which aggravates me even more.

“Does it sound like I want you here?” I snap in a low whisper, almost too low for him to hear. I don’t remember anything from the night before; what I said or did is irrelevant—I don’t want him in my life.

Really, I don’t.

“Umm…did I really—I mean, did you really try to, uh…to kill yourself? Because of me?” My jaw clamps shut as I watch him, waiting for the all too familiar look of self-satisfaction on his face. I wait, but it never comes. He looks like he’s going to be sick—dreading my answer as much as he already knows it.

I don’t say anything, just nod my head and avert my eyes, waiting for him to leave. It isn’t exactly true—he was definitely a contributor but not the entire reason—but I don’t tell him that.

“Oh, Cas, I—” His voice catches in his throat and I cut him off with a sharp glare. It’s about all I can manage with the pounding in my head.

After everything happened, I just wanted to escape—get away from all the pain and suffering—but that’s in the past. Where it should be and I won’t— _I_ _won’t_ —let Dean Winchester come into my life and dig it all up again. I can’t. I know what the doctor said— _Forgive those who hurt you, if only just to free yourself from the pain_ —but I can’t. I’m not ready and I don’t know if I ever will be. “Leave,” I growl, thrusting a finger at the door while meeting his sad, sad eyes. He just stares for a few more moments, debating his options and finding he only has one. 

He turns for the door, hesitating for only a moment to look back before continuing on. I should be relieved when the door closes behind him—I should feel happy that he’s out of my life—but a weight settles on my chest, pressing all the air from my lungs. My eyes drift to the ceiling as I contemplate the feeling, coming to the conclusion that Dean is a sneaky, weaseling ass-butt. Okay, so, no, I didn’t want him to leave. Everyone leaves and maybe—just _maybe_ —I was hoping that he’d stay. Just for this once, I wanted him to choose to fight for me and stay. But that’s ridiculous—years of therapy and medication are the result of wanting Dean. _Years_ of self-doubt, self-loathing, and self-abuse all come down to him. Well, him and the rest of my cousins.

I tug the blankets closer to my chest, rolling over to face the wall and block out the bright rays glaring at me—angry and accusing. I ignore them, shutting my eyes tight and willing sleep to find me.

 

I wake a few hours later, shooting up in bed as my heart races and sweat pours down every part of me. Well, sweat and tears. I swipe at my cheeks while trying to get control of my ragged breaths but it’s no use. The nightmare…it wasn’t like the others—the ones I usually have where Dean hurls awful words at me, morphing into a monster with black eyes as he torments me until I beg for mercy, then torturing me some more—this one was different…and so much worse.

There’s Dean… smiling softly at me, his relaxed features and pouty lips parted slightly as he gazes into my eyes. His long eyelashes fan his freckled cheekbones with every blink of his eyes and strands of dark blond hair lay flat on his forehead. Sun shines through the windows onto the scuffed hardwood floor and I smile, for once I’m not annoyed that I don’t have blinds to black the golden light from pouring in on Dean’s beautiful face. He looks like a golden angel.

Angel…He used to call me that. His sorrowful, beautiful angel. I’m just Angel now. Or angel mine in my nightmares. And we’re happy; there’s not painful history between us—no black-eyed monster lurking inside him—just…peace.

That’s what makes it so much worse.

It’s everything I ever wanted and everything I was never allowed to have. There were no soft smiles and lingering touches. No sweet words. He used me, whether as a way to let out anger by abusing my body or to let off steam by using it.

They always say it’s the gory nightmares that are the worst—the ones that seem so real that they’re almost impossible to escape—they’re wrong.

These are the worst. The ones where you’re given everything you ever wanted before having it so cruelly ripped from your fingertips by reality. Dean doesn’t offer me sweet words—he doesn’t kiss me or smile at me like that and he never will.

I jump out of bed on shaky legs, deciding I need to get up to pee and wash the bucket that’s cooking in the afternoon sun. But mostly, I need to get away from the image of Dean in my bed. I grab the bucket off the floor as I hurry to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. I take a minute to calm myself before washing the bucket and turning on the shower. _Don’t think about it. Deep breaths. You’re okay_.

Shaking out my arms, I strip out of my boxers and socks before climbing into the shower and letting the hot water wash over me, rinsing away the sweat and tears. _Don't think about it, don't think about it, don’t think about it._ Then tears are streaming down my face and mixing with the hot water as a choked sob sneaks out and I crumple to my knees. I hold a palm over my mouth to quell the sounds that fight to escape, thinking that if I make no sounds, then they must not exist. I need a moment—just a moment—to let go or to gather myself; I’m not sure which, so I do both. Falling apart to hold myself together.

Dean doesn’t see this. The aftermath of what he let happen to me—what he doesn’t remember letting happen to me—so he doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand why I can’t just let him in. He’s never seen _this_ side of me—the one that feels all the pain and heartbreak and _fear_. Fear of being left behind; of being unloved and unwanted in this ruthless world that has never loved me. Never wanted me.

Then I put myself back together.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I climb from the shower and scrub my hair and body with a towel before wrapping it around my waist. I place my hands on the counter and stare at my reflection. Bloodshot eyes and puffy face. Blue, a stark contrast to red, and wild hair all over the place. I don’t bother to smooth it down before brushing my teeth and taking two more Advil.

Taking a deep, calming breath as I stand in front of the door, I focus on working up the courage to open it and face the image of my dream—no, nightmare—again. Closing my eyes, I bounce on the balls of my feet and count to three before turning the lock and pulling open the door. And…it’s just my bed. Just my rumpled sheets and dented pillows. I sigh in relief.

I rifle through my dresser for clean clothes, grabbing the first thing my hands land on and sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on my socks and boxers.

I stand to pull on my jeans and a t-shirt. Deciding to go out for lunch, I search the space for my shoes and notice that they’re placed neatly by the door. I smile despite myself, knowing Dean must’ve put them there because I never do.

I pull my phone out of my coat pocket when I pull it on and lock the door behind me, seeing thirty-six missed calls and twenty-three texts, all from Gabe. Deciding to just rip off the band-aid, I press the call button and bring the phone to my ear.

“WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO?” I jerk the phone away as Gabe’s voice practically bursts an eardrum.

“Hello to you, too,” I grumble, still holding the phone a few inches from my ear. I stop at the corner beside the bus stop, checking my pocket for change and sighing in relief when I find some.

“Don’t you ‘hello’ me! I called you like a million times! You could've been dead in a ditch for all I knew!” Gabriel’s voice is sharp and angry but there’s worry there too.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, that doesn't cut it, baby brother.” He sighs deeply before speaking in a calmer voice. “Wanna get lunch with me before I head to the airport?”

“Yeah, I’m actually heading somewhere now.”

“Bela’s Breakfast Bistro, be there in twenty,” Gabe says, and hangs up.

See you in twenty…” I say to the dial tone, hanging up as the bus rolls to a stop beside me.

I get off the bus fifteen minutes later, walking the rest of the way to the café and looking around for Gabe’s car but I don’t see it yet, so I get us a table on the enclosed patio, waiting patiently with my hands folded in front of me. I rub my hands together to warm them. It might be sunny out, but there’s a chill in the air.

"Cas? Why is _he_ here?” Gabe snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at someone a few tables over.

My head snaps in that direction, eyes widening on Dean before quickly moving away when Dean’s eyes meet mine. “Oh, I don’t know…perhaps because he lives here?” I snap back, glaring at Gabe as he glares at Dean and takes his seat across from me.

Gabe ignores me, muttering to himself under his breath but I hear him anyway. “With that stupid hair and those stupid eyes. God, why does he have to be so damn _yummy_ looking.” Gabe snatches the menu off the table and holds it in front of his face, but he doesn’t look at it, his eyes focused, not on Dean, but on the guy sitting across from him. _Sam_.

I open my mouth to speak but we are interrupted by the waitress, who sets down a couple of waters, speaking the whole time.

“Sorry about the wait, would you like to hear the specials?” She doesn’t wait for an answer as she lists them off rapidly before pulling out a notepad. “So, are you ready to order or would you like a few more minutes?” I’m so caught off guard that I don’t answer for a minute so Gabe answers for both of us.

“A few minutes would be great, sweetheart. Thanks.” He tilts his head and smiles up at her before glancing at me.

I try—really, I do—to ignore Dean’s burning gaze and listen to Gabe, but I can’t help glancing over every now and then, sometimes catching Dean’s stare and quickly shifting my gaze away, but other times I can stare at him longer. Gabe doesn’t notice, too busy playing his own game of eye-tag with Sam.

I do my best to ignore Dean when our meals arrive but still, I find myself looking over. I can _feel_ his eyes on me and my cheeks heat as tremors take over my hands. I try to steady them but it’s no use—the weight I felt when he left this morning has all but disappeared with him so close, but it leaves me feeling hollow instead of relieved—especially with that nightmare running on repeat through my mind. Everything that could have been. Everything that can never be. I sink into my chair with a defeated sigh.

When the food is gone, Gabe is practically running for his car after a hasty goodbye, saying something about getting to the airport to catch his flight. I watch as his eyes track Sam’s every movement when he stands at the same time. I guess we both have it bad for a Winchester.

He pays the bill before leaving, slapping my shoulder before heading off with Sam not far behind.

The feeling hits me out of nowhere. I’m alone. I’m so _alone_. With my entire family out on the west coast, I have nobody. A lump works its way into my throat and I swallow hard but it doesn’t budge.

The weight resettles, pressing all the air from my lungs and I'm just so _tired_. Tired of never being chosen—always being left behind. I’m tired of it.

I watch as Dean takes a deep breath and pushes himself to his feet. He seems to be steeling himself for something as he slowly counts his money before laying a few bills on the table and turning towards me. I see the longing in his eyes when they meet mine—the desire to do anything other than what he has to do. He’ll walk away if I let him—I know he will. I close my eyes for a moment and breathe deeply. I know I’m going to regret this, but I just— _need_ him. Right now I need him.

“Dean.”

 

_SAM_

My heart is still pounding in my chest when I board the plane. _Gabe_! Jesus, he’s fucking everywhere. In class, at the library…in my fucking dorm room. I sigh, pushing back my hair as I stuff my carryon in the overhead compartment before taking my seat.

I text Dean, letting him know I’m on the plane, waiting for his reply before turning it off and shoving it in my pocket. I’ll be back in a few days so I didn’t bother to get Dean to drive me here—I only had my carryon anyway. I shift, trying to get comfortable in the cramped seat beside the window. A six-foot-four guy in the window seat of a plane is like a giant stuffed in a clown car. I watch out the window as the last of the luggage is brought to the plane and stowed away far below me—the once sunny afternoon has turned dark as a snowstorm rolls in.

“Hm, nice day, huh?” I jump at the smooth voice from the seat next to mine, my head whipping around to see light brown eyes staring mischievously at me.

“That is _not_ your seat,” I say, sure that there’s no way.

“‘Fraid so, Sammy boy. Well…after I told the nice young lady over there that you ate an expired burrito for breakfast. She switched seats pretty quick after that.” Gabe winks, pushing back his shaggy hair and digging through his pocket before pulling out a mini snickers bar. I roll my eyes but take one when he offers. Could this day get any worse?

Apparently, the answer to that is _yes_.

“Attention, this is your captain speaking, there is a storm moving in over Kansas and as a result, we will be delaying this flight until it passes. If we are unable to takeoff after five hours the flight will be canceled and you will all be compensated for the trouble.”

I huff, running a hand through my hair as annoyance shoots through me. I have a test in the morning that I need to study for and an assignment due in the afternoon that I need to finish up and…Gabriel Novak is sitting far too close and he smells way too good to resist in this close proximity.

I’m not gay. I’m not—I like girls. I mean, sure I haven’t dated since—since Jess, but that’s…that’s for a whole other reason. Ruby was as close as I ever got to anything, but after Dean’s accident, I got clean and Ruby…well, they never actually found out who killed her, but I have my suspicions…

Gabe leans in closer to me. It’s only fractionally, but heat radiates off of him, seeping through my jacket and causing a flush to spread through my body despite the chill of the plane. Maybe I should just give in to him. Just one time and then it’s over. It’s not like I’m _not_ attracted to him—he’s hot as fuck and probably great in bed, it’s just…Jess.

But maybe this would be good for me—maybe it would help me move on with my life. Is that’s even what I want, though? I don’t know anymore.

 

It’s dark by the time the snow stops and they get the runway cleared and I breathe a sigh of relief as we start to move. The plane is dark and most people are asleep, only a few lights on above seats. I close my textbook, which I’d only really been using as an excuse to ignore Gabe for the hours that the plane was delayed. Now, though, it’s too dark to even pretend to be focussed without eyestrain.

I put my book away and pull out a blanket when I begin to shiver, tucking it around my shoulders and laying my head against the window as I look over at Gabe, who decided hours ago that trying to talk to me was pointless and had started a movie. I recognize it and know from a glance that it’s almost over. Fucking _perfect_.

Sighing, I contemplate the pros and cons of having meaningless sex with Gabe. It'd probably be damn good sex; pro. But he's my TA; con. I might be able to take the first step to letting Jess go; pro. I don’t even know if I want to let Jess go; con. I groan and close my eyes while rubbing my forehead with the palm of my hand, frustrated and more confused than ever.

“Careful, I get all hot and bothered when you make sounds like that.” Hot breath hits my ear and I jump, but strange heat pools in my stomach and my pants tighten…just a little.

“Yeah?” I ask, my voice far more gravelly than I expected, but I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind. Fuck it—sex with Gabe would probably be mind-blowing and I’ll be damned if I pass that up.

Gabe’s eyes widen in surprise, but that familiar smirk curves his full mouth and his lustful eyes scan my blanket-clad body. “Mmm…” He nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down, eliciting another groan from my throat. “So…fucking…hot,” he growls as he takes my hand, moving it under his blanket and over the evidence of just how hot he thinks it is. I suck in a breath as my fingers tighten, drawing a deep breath from Gabe. “What do you say to a little undercover action?” He wiggles his eyebrows and smirks, moving his hand under my blanket to cup me through my jeans.

I unzip his jeans in answer, clumsily loosening his belt and undoing the button. Thankfully, the woman who had been sitting on the aisle seat next to Gabe had decided to collect on the reimbursement and stay with her family for another day, so we’re alone as far as our row goes.

Gabe fumbles with my jeans, getting them open after a few minutes of struggle and pushes his hand inside, drawing my hard cock out of the opening in my boxers. My head falls back as he strokes slowly from base to tip, smearing the pre-cum around. I move my hand into his boxers, just rubbing my palm along the length before fingering his balls. His hand constricts on my dick, forcing a choked sound from my throat as pleasure bursts in my stomach.

“Jesus Christ, Gabe,” I pant, pulling his cock out of his boxers and jerking it in firm pulls, not messing around. Gabe lets out a series of grunts, closing his eyes as his thumb presses into the hole at the tip. I jerk my hips up before stilling and looking around to make sure no one noticed. Most people are asleep and those who aren’t are too absorbed in whatever is keeping them awake to pay us any attention.

I swirl my thumb around the tip before pumping hard and fast. Gabe’s strokes falter and he slams his other hand over his mouth, closing his eyes and trembling as his orgasm rolls through him. Muffled whines escape him as hot liquid covers my hand and the underside of his blanket. Eventually, he opens his eyes, panting and smirking lustfully.

“Damn, Sammy boy; you’re good at that.” His hand moves back to my aching cock and he swirls his index finger on the tip, smearing the clear liquid around that’s seeping out. My hand on his thigh tightens and the other grips the armrest as my hips thrust into his hand in a steady rhythm. I clench my jaw when the groans try to escape but a few slip out so I mirror Gabe and throw my hand over my mouth as the pleasure crests, Gabe’s hand pumping my cock in a way that not even I can do, and I explode all over him, whimpering into my palm as I bite the skin and close my eyes, throwing my head back on the headrest as his hand slows before finally letting go.

I tuck myself back in my pants and ball up the blanket, stuffing it in my bag before looking over at Gabe who is doing the same thing. Gabe looks over, catching my eyes and winking before turning away with a smirk.

Fuck. I’m so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...Sam and Gabriel? Whaaaaaat? 
> 
> Did you like having Sams POV? 
> 
> Also...the flashbacks? 
> 
> So I'll probably post before the week is over because I'm weak and have no willpower to deny you an already finished chapter.
> 
> Leave a comment and tell me what you think!


	4. Show Me Who You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This is the updated version of chapter 4!!! *May 30, 2018*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, what's that? That thing that just flew out the window? Yeah, that's my posting schedule. I WAS FINISHED WRITING IT, OKAY! (The schedule will resume if/when I catch up to what I've already written.)
> 
> Also, honest feedback is my jam so leave a comment and tell me what you think.
> 
> Warnings: general homophobic shittiness, some ambiguous consent things. I THINK that's it but let me know if I missed something!
> 
> Alright, I hope you love it.

**_September 22, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

“Castiel.” I look up when my name is called, hugging my books tighter to my chest as I sigh, my shoulders falling—I was almost free. Turning back around, I look at my teacher, Mr Metatron. His wire-framed glasses sit on the end of his nose as he looks down at the papers in front of him, tapping the bright red pen marks in the corner.

“Yes?” I ask, my voice trembling a little. Did I do something wrong? If I got a bad grade, my mom will kill me. Panic squeezes my windpipe and I have to force myself to breathe deeply through my constricted airway. “Is there a problem?”

“No—well, yes. Come sit.” I pull a chair up in front of his desk and lower myself into it, wringing my hands and glancing nervously at the clock. If I wait too long to get to class, the halls will be empty. The halls _can’t_ be empty. “Do you see this?” He shows me the test mark in the top right corner of the page and my eyes widen as I read the bright red 31%. Oh, no. No, no, no, no. I start to shake.

“It’s Dean Winchester’s, not yours.” My eyebrows furrow in confusion and then fear, already anticipating his next question. I shake for a whole new reason. “This is yours,” he says, showing me a paper with a bright red 97% crawled in the top corner. Dread settles in my stomach and for the first time in my life, I find myself wishing I wasn’t so good at English—that I didn’t love it so much—because I know—I _know_ —he’s about to ruin it for me forever. “I need you to tutor Dean. He needs to keep his grades up to stay on the team and, well, I love my team,” he says with a smirk, adjusting his letterman jacket and nudging last year's state championship trophy that sits on the corner of his desk.

“Mr. Metatron, I’d really prefer not to; I have so much going on—”

“I wasn’t asking you, Castiel. You will do this for me as a favour and maybe I’ll write you that letter of recommendation you asked about.” He raises an eyebrow, his cold blue eyes daring me to say no. My heart lurches—I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, as they say, and don’t see any way out. “You’ll meet with Dean every Tuesday and Thursday for three hours for the duration of the semester. I’ve already spoken to your mother and she likes the idea,” he says, standing up and slipping the tests into his messenger bag before sliding it onto his shoulder and ushering me out. He slaps me on the back before turning down the hall, thankfully missing the wince when he jars my still healing ribs. “Dean will be in the library at three o’clock with a draft for the next essay,” he yells over his shoulder before whistling a tune as he turns a corner.

My breaths start coming in quick pants, and black dots swim in my vision. I close my eyes, bending over and placing my hands on my knees to try to get control of myself. My muscles ache and every part of my body trembles. Six hours a week…alone…with Dean Winchester. Talk about a Dead Man Walking.

And that’s not even the worst part…

Dean is…well there’s a reason all the girls want him. He’s gorgeous— _all man_ —and he knows it. I can’t even imagine what he’d do to me if he knew I thought about him like that—late at night when the house is dark and quiet. When it’s just me in my room with my thoughts…

Letting out a breath through my nose, I open my eyes and stand, shaking out my hands. I don’t go to class, hiding in a bathroom stall instead. I don’t think I could handle another hour of mindless teachers and paper airplanes to the back of the head.

 

I walk through the doors of the library on shaky legs, my eyes flicking around the space as I bounce on the balls of my feet, filled with nervous energy. I don’t see Dean anywhere and my shoulders sag in relief. At least, I’ll get the chance to calm down before he gets here.

Suddenly, a hand shoves into my back, right between my shoulder blades—not hard enough to send me sprawling on the floor, but I do stumble a few steps before turning just in time to see Dean brushing past me, bumping his shoulder into mine, making me stumble a few more steps before I straighten and follow behind him…into a private study room. Crap.

I follow Dean inside, and, after a slight hesitation, I leave the door open a crack. Dean doesn’t look at me when he speaks.

“Close the damn door, Cas. I’m not gonna kick your ass when you’re helping me out.” I don’t respond, just pull the door closed behind me and sit as far away from Dean as the table will allow. He doesn’t say anything but it’s pretty impossible to miss his eye-roll as he digs through his bag, tossing a crumpled and dirty essay draft onto the table. I pull it over, focussing on smoothing out the wrinkles instead of on Dean taking off his jacket, leaving him in just a white t-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders and chest. I swallow hard, my eyes glued to the paper as I read through it once before going back over it with a red pen.

Dean sits there quietly, biting a nail as he leans back in the chair. I chew on the end of my pen, tilting my head as I read his thesis, nodding at the strength of the argument and making some notes on the wording before moving on to the first paragraph, assessing the argument and making more notes. My head begins to ache and I rub the heel of my hands into my eyes. I should put on my glasses but there’s no way in hell I’m letting Dean see that—it would just be used as another reason for him to hit me.

“I don’t have any quotes yet or anything. That’s just the first draft.” I look up from the paper and catch Dean’s eyes but he glances away, chewing on his bottom lip and shrugging.

“I know,” I say, my voice a little too high as I stare at his bottom lip. Clearing my throat, I swallow hard before looking back down at the pages in front of me. I get to the end and set the paper down, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms in my lap. “It’s a good start.” I slide the essay back across the table and he glances at it before looking back at me. For once he’s not looking at me like I’m the shit on his shoe and something warm sparks in my chest. I beat it down fast, breaking our eye contact and looking at the table in front of me. “There are a few things that you could change…” I flinch when he leans forward suddenly, trailing off as he bends over the paper to read my comments. My ribs ache with the sharp movement but I ignore it.

“What the hell is a thesis?” He glances up at me and my cheeks burn. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, just continuing to stare at me from under those long lashes.

“Um, it’s a statement of the argument you’re going to make,” I say with a half shrug. He nods, running a finger over the red ink as he reads.

“You like this stuff?” He asks, not looking up at me, which is probably for the best as I’m sure my eyebrows are in my hairline and I look entirely too suspicious. Did I really just hear that? From Dean?

I clear my throat and fidget in my seat. “Um…yeah.” I debate whether or not I should say more or if it’ll be used against me later on. “I—I like writing.” Shrugging, I wrap one arm around my torso, grabbing my elbow before wincing when my ribs protest.

Dean tilts his head in question. “You good?” He grunts, narrowing his eyes as I adjust myself in the chair, leaning back and forcing myself to relax.

“Yeah,” I say through tight breaths. “Just my ribs…I’m used to it,” I say a little bitterly. He raises an eyebrow at my tone but doesn’t comment, frowning as he looks back at the draft. He looks a little uneasy but I can’t for the life of me figure out why, so I ignore it and try my hardestnot to stare at the beautiful boy—no, _man_ —in front of me.

 

_DEAN_

I stare down at the paper in front of me, the red ink not registering as words in my mind as I try desperately to push away the guilt that settled in my stomach when I saw Cas’s pain. _I’m used to it_. The words ring in my head, turning my stomach in a way it never has before. I shove it away, reminding myself that I’ve had much worse done to me by a much bigger man and lived to tell about it. Cas’ll be fine.

For the next two and a half hours, Cas gives me pointers on my essay and I watch as his whole demeanour changes, going from the timid, nerdy, loser to the English wiz kid. A calm assurance settles over him and he looks almost…happy. It looks good on him, I think, before kicking my own ass for the thought. Seeing him feeling anything but pain shouldn't feel good. I like his pain—I have to remember that. His pain makes mine not so bad.

I look up at the clock and notice the time. Sighing in relief, I snatch the paper from Cas’s hands and stuff it into my bag, not caring that it’s even more wrinkled now than when I pulled it out as I cut Cas off. “Time’s up. Bye,” I say, grabbing my jacket and throwing my bag over my shoulder before walking out, not even bothering to look at him or thank him for his help. It’s not like he's doing this willingly anyway.

“Okay, well…I’ll see you Thursday,” he calls after me, sounding as unenthusiastic about it as I’d expect him to be. I don’t reply, feeling more than a little off balance from seeing Cas like that—in his element.

The whole drive back to Bobby’s, all I can see are blue eyes and red ink.

 

**_November 18, 2018_ **

“Dean.” The breath I’d been holding bursts out as I close my eyes in relief, my shoulders sagging as I turn to face Cas.

“Yeah, Cas?” I whisper, knowing my every thought and feeling is written all over my face for him to see and not caring one bit as I stare at him from across the table.

I—um…I never thanked you. For, you know, helping me home yesterday.” He shrugs and stares down at the table. “So, thank you.” My entire body sags as the tension in my limbs melts away.

“No problem, Cas.” I shove my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels as we watch each other for a silent minute. My stomach sinks when he doesn’t say any more and I suddenly feel like I’m intruding. On his meal. On his day. On his _life_. “Alright, well…see you around,” I say, knowing I won’t.

I turn to leave, my breaths getting more and more difficult as a weight presses down on my chest, forcing the air from my lungs.

“Wait.” I pause, looking back at Cas, whose eyes are closed. He opens them slowly, meeting mine as he gestures to the seat across from him. “Would you mind?” I nod immediately, pulling out the chair and sitting across from him. I watch him for a moment, waiting for him to speak but fearing what he has to say. I look through the windows behind him, seeing the bustling waiters and carefree diners. None of them seems to have a care in the world. _Seem_ being the keyword—no one freely broadcasts their troubles to the world. Okay, so most people don’t, so it _seems_ as if they’re not there.

Like this bistro, for example. It looks like a nice family establishment but what most people _don’t_ know is that there’s an illegal fight held here every Friday night. There’s far more to Bela Talbot than meets the eye—like with most people.

Cas though…his pain is so clear that anyone who looks at him can see it. A deep, long-suffering wound that was never allowed to heal—ripped open again and again by me and people like me.

I hold my breath when Cas closes his eyes and inhales deeply, visibly gathering himself for whatever it is he’s about to say.

I’ll answer him too—I know I will. He deserves that much.

 

_CASTIEL_

I shouldn’t have asked him to stay. It was a mistake—I knew that when I asked him, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know, but another more deranged, self-torturing part of me _needs_ to know.

I open my eyes, fixing them on Dean as he watches me nervously. “Do you…um—what do you remember?” He looks a little surprised by the question but I don’t take it back, continuing to watch him as a rock settles in my stomach.

He sucks in a deep breath, running his fingers through his short hair as his eyes look anywhere but at me. “Shit, Cas…a lot? A little? I don’t know.” He looks behind me again as he thinks. “I remember…you and me together. I remember failing my final English exam in senior year. I don’t know—little things,” he says with a shrug, looking like he wishes, more than anything, that he could give me more. I sigh in disappointment and look down at my hands.

There has to be more than that. Maybe…maybe I can coax the memories from him? In a place where a memory happened, maybe? I think hard on it, deciding that it’s worth a shot and that maybe— _maybe_ —it’ll be enough for Dean to _really know_ everything he put me through and make him feel some of my pain. Maybe then I can start to take steps towards getting past it and moving on with my life.

My eyes snap back to his. “Take me to a place with a memory,” I tell him more than ask. He looks started but doesn’t say no, instead he nods slowly.

“Okay, how about next Sunday? I’m off tomorrow but I need time to think of a specific one.”

I nod, a ghost of a smile curving my lips of at the prospect of finally being able to move forward. Maybe it won’t work; maybe Dean won’t cooperate in the future—but he’s agreed for now, so there’s hope.

Well…until Dean opens his smart mouth anyway.

He waves his fingers between us. “ If we hadn’t already eaten I’d almost think this was a date,” Dean says, folding his hands on the table in front of him and leaning forward, gazing into my eyes with a small, playful grin.

“I’d hope you’d put a little more thought into a first date than just breakfast.” I raise an eyebrow, but I don’t smile, keeping my face stony.

“First date?” He frowns. “I thought in high school we—”

“Fucked,” I finish coldly, only regretting it a little when Dean flinches. “We didn’t date; you would have never been seen in public with me,” I deadpan and Dean flinches again.

He’s silent for a moment, his face pinched with regret and sadness but it changes in a blink and he’s grinning. “Go on a date with me. A real one.” He tilts his head with that stupid grin on his face. I’d wished for this every day in high school—Every. Damn. Day—but now that it’s here and I’m living it, I can’t. Not after everything that’s happened.

I shake my head firmly, looking down at the table as my eyebrows furrow with restrained emotion—I lose all control when it comes to Dean Winchester. “No,” I say, with no further explanation. “I’ll see you in a week, then." I stand, leaving Dean in shocked silence and not looking back.

~*~*~*~

I straighten my tie for the billionth time, tilting my head as I examine it and wonder again if I’m overdressed. Is this how people dress when going to relive old memories? Horrible, traumatizing memories, no less? I question myself for the millionth time since last Sunday. _Should I really be doing this?_ Dean might not remember everything he did to me but there aren’t really many _good_ memories. What kind of horror show have I signed up for? I shake the thoughts away—if it doesn’t go well, I’ll just call this whole idea off. No harm, no foul. That’s what I tell myself anyway.

I glance at the clock. Dean’s late—only five minute’s late, but late all the same. I start to worry that he’s not coming. Maybe he changed his mind and just forgot to tell me. Maybe he decided to go out with friends instead. Maybe…I hear the rumble of the Impala’s engine and let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. _He’s different. He’s changed_. I have to keep telling myself that. It seems like it’ll be almost impossible to get my brain to comprehend that the Dean that bullied me in high school isn’t the same Dean who’s picking me up today—at least, I don’t think it is.

I check my tie one more time, smoothing down my wild hair and pulling on my trench coat before making my way down the stairs and out the back door, locking it behind me.

When I make it to the front of the building, Dean is leaning against the side of his car, wearing…the same thing he always wears. I stop walking as embarrassment creeps up my neck when Dean’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Should I change? I’ve never…I don’t know what to wear on…whatever this is,” I say, not able to meet his eyes as I speak. I cover my forehead with a hand and shake my head. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Memory Lane?” he says in a soothing voice while stepping away from the car, ignoring my nerves while still managing to calm them. “You look great, Cas.” He grins at me. “I actually don’t own much more than jeans and flannel or I would’ve dressed nicer too for our little…trip.” He pulls a hand out from behind his back. “For you,” he says, handing me a bouquet of sunflowers. I raise an eyebrow and frown, but take the flowers from him anyway.

“Why…?” I trail off, bringing the flowers up to my nose and breathing in their calming scent.

It’s his turn to look nervous as he shifts from foot to foot, staring at my shoes. “I don’t know…you like them? I was trying to be nice?” He tilts his head and grins sheepishly. He’s lying, I know, but I let it slide.

“I’ll go put these in water.” I force a small smile, turning my back on him to go inside. I put the flowers in a vase in my office before rejoining Dean outside. He’s in the driver’s seat of his car, blasting classic rock and beating his hands on the steering wheel when I get in. He turns it down immediately and looks over at me with a bright smile, his earlier nerves pushed aside for the time being.

“Where are we going?” I ask, glancing out the window as the houses fly by, eventually turning into storefronts and finally into fields as we leave downtown.

“It’s a surprise.” He glances over at me and winks, a carefree grin on his face. “I remembered something else yesterday,” he says as he takes a left turn onto the two-lane highway heading out of Lawrence.“That’s the only hint you get.”

“That’s the worst hint ever, Dean.” I narrow my eyes at him but he ignores me, choosing instead to turn up the music and sing along. After another half an hour on the highway, Dean turns off into the parking lot of…the science center. My heart pounds with something I can’t name. This…this was a good place.

“Really?” I look at him incredulously, only getting a grin for an answer.

“Your favorite place in the whole entire world right? That's how I remember it anyway.” My heart softens the tiniest bit. That was a good memory—one of only a few—one of my favorites.

“Yes, one of my favorite places,” I whisper in awe, staring up at the huge building as Dean parks the car. I don’t wait for him as I get out. The wind whips at my jacket and blows the hair back from my forehead, but I barely notice, too warm from the feelings forcing their way inside my chest.

Dean leads me to the entrance, paying for our tickets—after insisting that I would not be paying for my own—as I walk away to look around, my wide eyes seeing everything for the second time in my life—the first being on a class trip. That wasn’t _exactly_ the best day—my cousins tormented me when they got me alone in the bathroom—but the rest of the day was great. The bees were my favorite and I look for them first on the exhibit directory, smiling when I find them.

“Bees, right?” I just nod, taking the lead with a barely contained grin, leading him to the right, past the dinosaurs and up a set of winding stairs, then to the back of the space. The entrance is shaped like a honeycomb and I can’t help but smile as I walk through, Dean following close behind me. I momentarily forget about being cautious—the joy just seems to pour out and I let Dean see it. I let him see all of it and for the moment, I don’t worry that he’ll use my happiness against me.

A load speaker plays bee facts as people mill about, going from station to station as I watch in wide-eyed fascination.We spend the rest of the day going through the exhibits, looking at everything and anything. A smile tries desperately to force its way onto my face practically the whole time, and by the time we leave, my face hurts.

“Dinner?” Dean asks and my stomach growls in reply. He laughs when I blush and I growl at him with a glare before looking down at my lap. “You’re kinda, sorta…great, you know?” I glance up at his smiling face and scrunch my nose, glaring daggers at him.

“Kinda, sorta?” He laughs, moving his hand into my hair and tugging me forward. I gasp, my smile falling as his lips meet mine. I’m frozen for about half a second before moving a hand to his chest to push him away but instead curling his shirt into my fist and tugging him closer.

He’s frozen in shock, moving slowly as I drag him in. His eyes close, his warm breaths brushing my lips as I draw him in. A strange, unwelcome heat pools in my stomach but I ignore it, moving my lips to Dean’s ear. “Don’t ever touch me without my permission again,” I growl, shoving him away. He lets out a startled yelp when his shoulder hits the window but he doesn’t say anything. He watches me, though. A sadness blooms on his face that doesn’t leave until we’re on the highway again.

We don’t speak as he drives us and I take the time to think about the memory he showed me today. Why this one? Of all the horrible things he could have told me he remembered, why one of the good things? Maybe it’s part of his strategy to get me to forgive him. Or maybe…I slam the door on that possibility—there’s no way Dean is trying to shield me from my own pain.

I look over at him as he drives. His eyes are firmly glued to the road but he doesn’t appear to be seeing it—not really. I watch his speedometer rise.

“Dean,” I say, trying to get his attention as my heart rate picks up. His speed is up to almost one hundred miles an hour. I’ve always hated going fast—he knows that. _He_ _knew_ _that_ , I correct myself—this Dean has no idea. He doesn’t react in any way to my quiet urging. “Dean!” I snap, raising my voice a little louder as my hands start to shake from adrenaline. He flinches, snapping his eyes over to me before they fly back to his rearview mirror.“Shit,” he snaps, pulling onto the shoulder as red and blue lights flash behind us. My eyes widen and I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. Dean reaches over and opens the compartment in front of me, grabbing the registration and rolling down the window as the police officer taps on it.

“Licence and registrat—Dean?” My head snaps around and my heart starts racing for a whole new reason as Michael leans into the window. “Dean Winchester? Longtime, no see, man. How are you?” Dean looks just as shocked as Michael as he holds his documentation in his hand.

“Good, I’m good.” A tight smile curves his lips as I shrink into my seat, trying to be as invisible as possible. Every horrible memory comes rushing back to my mind. Every prank and every punch. Every time I felt worthless because of them. I struggle to suck in air as my throat closes, the panic attack building with every second Michael is there. There’s an awkward silence as Dean holds up his license and registration and I struggle to control my breathing.

“Anyway, you were going pretty fast back there. I’ll let you off this time with a warning since we’re old buddies.” I watch as he glances up and sees me. Almost as if in slow motion, his face changes; his eyes go from friendly to cruel in an instant as his easy smile transforms into a disdainful smirk. “Cassie, what’re you doing back in Lawrence?” He snickers, raising an eyebrow before glancing at Dean. “Remember how much fun messing with him was?” He nudges Dean’s shoulder with his elbow and my heart sinks.

“No,” Dean deadpans, barely concealed anger tightening his muscles as he narrows his eyes. I see his jaw tick as he grinds his molars.

“Oh, we used to have so much fun! Remember when we started a cafeteria-wide food fight just because Cassie here decided to eat there one day? I mean, what were you really expecting?” He shakes his head and chuckles as he leans his crossed arms on the open window.

Every part of me freezes as I remember that horrible day and I flinch at the reminder. I rub my shoulder unconsciously where it never quite healed right—having been beaten up again before it had the chance—and stare down at the floor.

“The look on your face when his shoulder made that popping sound! Jesus, it was funny. I mean, the rest of us knew it had to hurt, but the shock he had when you just, like… _wrenched_ it back…” He throws his head back, laughing uproariously. Dean’s wide eyes turn to mine and I watch as the self-loathing floods in, his jaw dropping when all I do is shrug and look away, embarrassed by how weak I was—still am.

“God, those were the good ol’ days. You still a cocksucker, Cas?” I cringe at the crass term but don’t respond, staring down at my hands as my throat tightens. “Hey, you deaf now, too? We knock another screw loose in that little faggot brain of yours?” My vision blurs and I clench my jaw as my throat closes. Why did I think this would ever change? All the old words and threats they hurled at me come rushing back and I sink further into my seat.

 _Worthless. Stupid_. _Go kill yourself, little fag. No one wants you here. You deserve everything you get._ Some of the words are Michael’s or my other cousin’s. Some are Dean’s. Some are even from people I don’t know and who don’t know me. Those are the worst, I think, because they don’t know me, but they know how worthless I am.

My thumb grazes the scar on my left wrist. _I wasn't supposed to live._

 

_DEAN_

Every fiber of my being is telling me to hit him. To punch that smug grin off his stupid face and run him over with my car, but I can’t. Assaulting a police officer is quite the offense. But it’s tempting, especially as I watch Cas curl into himself, making himself smaller. He sinks into the seat and for a moment, I see him as the lanky high-schooler, cringing away from my fist as I swing at him, lashing out to relieve some of my own anger.

I watch as Cas slides his thumb over his wrist, his face darkening, and I notice the scar peeking out for the first time. Michael’s still laughing as I turn back to him. “Are we done here?” His laughter cuts off as he looks back at me, confused. I guess he never questioned the reason for Cas being in my car. “We’ve got dinner reservations.” Michael’s eyes flick from me to Cas and back again before realization hits him and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as his jaw drops.

“I—I…yeah. Um, yeah, you’re free to go,” he stutters as he takes one more long look at Cas and me before turning away. My hands shake as I turn the key and shift baby into drive and my jaw aches from clenching my teeth so tight, but I can’t relax as I pull onto the highway. I keep glancing in the rearview mirror until I can’t see the cop car anymore.

I pull onto the shoulder, throwing the car in park as I rest my elbows on the steering wheel and rub my hands down my face. Cas is silent and when I look over at him, tears shining n his eyes as he stares at the scar. I reach over and unbuckle his seatbelt, pulling him across the bench and hugging him close, not caring that he didn’t ask me to; he needs someone to be there for him and I’m the only one here. He doesn’t push me away like I expect him to, though, burying his face in my neck instead.

He cries silently, his shoulders jerking in my hold as his tears wet my neck. Another wave a hatred washes over me as I picture a younger version of Cas crying all alone after we hurl horrible words at him. My throat tightens at the thought and I hold him tighter.

“I’m so sorry, Cas. So fucking sorry.” My choked voice is hardly above a whisper. A sob escapes Cas and he clutches the side of my flannel, pulling me closer. I press my lips to his wild dark hair, closing my eyes as I breathe in his scent. It calms me. The light scent of his shampoo and pollen and that smell that’s just _him_. The one that smells a little like home to me—that, I realize, has always smelt a little like home to me.

After a few minutes, Cas pulls away and wipes at his cheeks, moving back across the seat and refusing to look me in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

A sigh bursts from his lungs. “I’m used to it.” He shrugs and something tickles in the back of my mind. A far away memory of those words. Blue eyes and red ink. It’s gone before I can place it.

“You shouldn’t have to be used to it.” I brush my fingers through his hair and he doesn’t pull away. This time his smile is real—just barely a tilt to his lips, but genuine all the same. “So…still up for that dinner reservation?”

“Definitely,” Cas says, buckling his seatbelt. We drive in silence as the radio plays and I smile as Cas hums along to “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman. Not something I’d usually listen to, but I turn it up since Cas seems to like it. He nods along, occasionally singing the words instead of humming. My heart warms at the simple pleasure in his eyes. He looks so calm—a stark contrast to twenty minutes before—that I have a hard time keeping my eyes on the road.

He glances over at me and I smile wide when he notices my eyes trained on him and narrows his eyes. He reaches over and turns up the music, smiling reluctantly as he sings louder.

 _“You’ve got a fast car, I’ve got a plan to get us outta here, I been working at the convenience store, managed to save just a little bit of money, we won't have to drive too far, just across the border and into the city, you and I can both get jobs, finally see what it means to be living,”_ he sings loudly and out of tune but it’s so goddamn adorable that I can’t help but laugh and sing along.

 _“See my old man's got a problem. He lives with a bottle that's the way it is, says his body's too old for working. His body's too young to look like his.”_ I close my eyes for a moment and tilt my head back, belting out the lyrics to the ceiling as Cas laughs a little. _“My mama went off and left him. She wanted more from life than he could give. Said somebody's got to take care of him. So I quit school and that's what I did.”_

 _“You’ve got a fast car.”_ Cas points at me as he sings, and I slap Baby’s dash. _“Is it fast enough so we can fly away? We gotta make a decision. Leave tonight or live and die this way.”_ My heart flutters when he shoots me a small smile before dancing in his seat. He throws his head back and closes his eyes for the next part. _“So I remember we were driving, driving in your car. Speed so fast felt like I was drunk, city lights lay out before us and your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulders and, I-I had a feeling that I belonged, and I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone.”_

I dissolve into laughter as I listen to him, so carefree and beautiful. God, he so strong. Resilient. There’s not another person on this planet that could go through the same shit come through it with this much strength. To be so kind and patient after going through hell takes a special kind of person…an angel, really. I wish—not for the first time today—that this was a real date and not just a trip down memory lane.

A swell of emotion hits me and cuts off my airway as I watch him sing. His body sways back and forth as he closes his eyes with his head tipped back. _I don’t deserve this time with him._

 _“You’ve got a fast car. Is it fast enough so you can fly away. You gotta make a decision. Leave tonight or live and die this way.”_ Cas sings the last verse before opening his eyes and looking down at me with that small, beautiful smile. He tilts his head to the side and a hair falls into his eyes as he seems to momentarily forget that he’s supposed to hate me. Angel…definitely an angel.

I pull into the restaurant parking lot and find a spot, looking over at Cas as he realizes where we are. His smile grows to the point that it probably hurts.

“Seriously?” He laughs happily as he gets out of the car and looks up at the sign. “ _Seriously?_ ” I nod, shrugging self-consciously. He looks at me with so much wonder and awe in those blue blue eyes that I feel a stab of guilt.

“I’ll admit, I cheated a little.” He tilts his head and frowns, confused. “It’s in my yearbook. Grade eleven science trip section. We went to the science centre then came here for dinner—there are pictures,” I say, gesturing to the Rainforest Café in front of us. “I just…I remember how happy you looked on that trip. I’d never seen you that happy before.” I lift one shoulder in a shrug, letting it fall as I watch him nervously. “Sorry, it’s not exactly a recalled memory.”

He stares at me for a moment with a strange look in his eyes before he turns away without a word and hurries towards the entrance. A confused smile curves my lips as I watch him and an ache settles in my heart. I can’t for the life of me figure out why. I follow him, laughing when he spins and hurries me along impatiently— _God, he’s adorable_.

I watch the childlike wonder light up his face as we walk through the sights and sounds of the rainforest. Cas cranes his neck to look at the ceiling, his mouth wide and eyes shining andI wonder at how he seems to be able to completely forget why we’re here. I won’t complain though—seeing Cas like this relieves the ache in my heart and lifts the weight from my overburdened chest.

The hostess leads us to our seats and I take Cas’s arm, guiding him through the tables as he looks around, making sure he doesn’t trip over a tree or fall into a fountain. We’re seated at a table for two near the back. It’s quiet and Cas doesn’t speak for a while as he looks through the menu, scanning every item on the page and reading all the ingredients before looking at the next. I smile at him indulgently, loving the joy in his eyes when they widen on something he likes or the way he points something out to me with a grin. I nod and smile back, but I’m not really paying attention to anything but him.

“So, Cas, I feel like I don’t really know you. I mean, you know so much about me but I only know what you’ve told me. Mostly anyway,” I say with a shrug.

He snorts without humor, not looking up at me when he speaks. “What can I say? My childhood sucked.” He shrugs and I frown, not satisfied with his answer.

“C’mon, it can’t be _all_ bad!”

“No, it really was _all_ bad.” He folds his hands on the table in front of him and scans the menu again, not so intensely this time.

“Really?” I say, doubt clear in my voice as I stare at him dubiously.

“Yes,” he nods, sucking his bottom him between his teeth before letting it go. “Well, I did have a guinea pig when I was eight but my sister’s cat ate it. I cried for weeks after that but my mom told me to toughen up and my dad had left by that point.” He shrugs, acting indifferent, but hurt still lingers in those transparent eyes. The waiter comes and takes our orders, dropping off some waters before taking our menus and hurrying off.

“Wow, and I thought my childhood sucked,” I mutter and Cas glances up at me with a wry smile.

“I know.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Did you know I have two brothers?” I do a double take as my eyebrows shoot up.

“What? I thought it was you, Gabe, and Anna?”

“When my dad left he took my other brother, Jimmy, with him. I always wished he’d have taken me, instead. Maybe things would’ve been different.” He shrugs again and I frown.

“Why would you—oh.” Right. Me.

“Probably wouldn’t have made a difference though.” Those damn shoulders shrug again and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Why’s that?”

He looks at me like I’m stupid. “I was the weird little gay kid, remember? I was in the gardening club, beekeeping club, book club, writing circle, chess club…” He ticks off on his fingers. “I wasn’t exactly _cool_. Not cool at all, actually. I was the perfect target, Dean. There’s a reason the entire football team hated me.” He swallows hard and this time it’s just a half shrug. “The weird little gay kid _never_ has friends. No matter the school or the town.” His eyes dull and I wish more than anything that I could reach for his hand. I don’t know what to say—there’s nothing _to_ say; I can’t take back what I did to him no matter how badly I wish I could—so I think about holding his hand.

“Tell me your favorite memory then,” I say, mentally stroking his knuckles with my thumb.

He swallows hard and quickly wipes under his nose. “Um…” He contemplates this for a moment before answering. He clears his throat. “I won the award for tallest sunflower one year for the gardening club. We had a dinner and I got a certificate—I still have it somewhere. That’s a good memory.” He smiles a little but doesn’t meet my eyes as a blush slowly creeps up his neck.

“But it’s not your favorite memory,” I say, knowing it’s true the moment his blush deepens.

“I’m not telling you my favorite memory,” he snaps but my curiosity gets the better of me and I push, nudging his foot under the table with mine and grinning playfully.

“C’mon Cas, if you can’t talk about it you shouldn’t be doing it.” His jaw drops as his eyes widen, the blue standing out against his bright red cheeks. He looks away, flustered, as he huffs repeatedly. I throw my head back and laugh.

“I’m not talking about having sex with you in the middle of a family establishment,” he hisses, moving his legs out of my reach and hiding both his hands under the table.

I soften as what he said finally sinks in and my heart melts as I tilt my head and smile adoringly at him. “That’s your best memory? With me?” My heart kicks in my chest as I stretch to trail my toes up the inside of his calf. He kicks my feet away.

“Ask me what my worst memory is and it involves you too,” he snaps, staring at the table. At first, I think he’s joking but when I laugh and he doesn’t join in, I realize he’s not kidding,

“Seriously?” My face falls as my stomach drops. His eyes darken as he nods, then he seems to shove the memory aside.

The rest of the meal is filled with more lighthearted banter than I could have ever expected from today, but it’s nice. I slowly learn all about Cas and I’m fascinated by him; I think I would’ve really liked him if I hadn’t been such a D-bag in high school. He talks forever about bees and flowers and how he's thinking about getting another guinea pig but he doesn’t think he can take care of it properly with the business and all. I smile the whole time he speaks, and before I know it, we’re both finished with our meals and I’m paying the bill.

I drive Cas back to his place, parking the car and looking over at him in the passenger’s seat. Running my eyes down his front, I see that his tie is loosened and flipped backwards. I smirk, reaching forward to straighten it. He gives me a strange look but doesn’t say anything.

His eyes move across my face as he debates something in his head. I wait, giving him time to decide for himself on whatever it is that’s got him so contemplative.“Do you want to come upstairs for some coffee?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in a way that lets me know he’s not just being polite. Who am I kidding? Cas is under no obligation to be polite to me and he knows it.

“Um…sure,” I breathe, undoing my seatbelt in a rush before he changes his mind. My phone starts ringing and I look to Cas as I pull it out. He nods, waiting for me on the sidewalk. “Hello,” I snap.

“Where are you? It’s eight-thirty and you said you’d be here at eight to watch Ben.” I sigh heavily, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead.

“Shit, sorry Lisa. I…um. I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.” Fuck. This is definitely _not_ how I wanted to end the night.

“I’ll thank you later,” she says with a grin in her voice, hanging up before I can respond.

I get out of the car and join Cas on the sidewalk, feeling shitty for having to leave so soon. God, all I want to do is stay. He looks at me with halfhearted concern. “I can’t stay,” I answer the unspoken question in his eyes. His shoulders drop almost indiscernibly as his face falls a little with disappointment.

“Oh. Okay, no problem.” He shrugs and forces a small smile.

“I promised Lisa I’d watch her kid while she’s at a work thing; I completely forgot about it.” He tilts his head, frowning with an odd look in his eyes.

“Lisa? Lisa Braeden?” Cas’s upper lip curls ever so slightly when he says her name and I frown.

“Yeah, she’s an old friend,” I say, bristling slightly.

“I know what kind of friend she is to you; she made it quite clear in high school.” He looks disgusted and my hackles rise.

“You judging me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “‘Cause last time I checked, you fucked me in high school, too.” I regret saying it as soon as the words leave my mouth. Cas flinches, looking at me like he both recognizes me and doesn’t.

Then he smiles a sad, bitter smile. “There he is—the _Dean Winchester_ I know.” He spins on his heel, storming off, and I want to chase after him more than anything, but I promised Lisa I’d watch Ben. Cas will be fine—I’ll talk to him later.

 

I glance at the clock as I lay back on the couch and rest my head on the armrest. It’s ten-thirty; Ben went to bed over an hour ago and there’s nothing on TV. I close my eyes, feeling frustrated and exhausted from my…whatever it was, with Cas. My heart aches when his angry eyes flash in my mind. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but seriously? He has no right to judge my sex life.

I push the angry thoughts from my mind, focussing on the way he sang in my car, throwing his head back and laughing with me. It’s more than I ever expected from today—I never thought he’d even smile, let alone have as much fun together as we did. It _was_ fun, too, and more than anything, I want to do it again. I picture his face—his head thrown back and his eyes closed as he belts out song lyrics as loud as he can. I try to force the smile off my face but it’s just not happening.

I shift on the couch to get more comfortable—it’s too small and my feet hang off the end but I make it work because there’s no way I’m going up to Lisa’s room. I try to fight sleep—Lisa will be home soon and I don’t want to tell her no after napping on her couch, but even as I try, I know I’m fighting a losing battle and I quickly drift off.

 

I moan, slowly surfacing from sleep to the feeling of a warm mouth on my aching cock. A tongue flicks lightly at the tip before circling and I grunt, still half asleep as I thrust my hips up. The mouth sucks harder and I grab a handful of Cas’s hair, guiding his head as I whimper. Something feels wrong about this though, but I’m too turned on and not awake enough to figure it out. A soft hand grips my length, pumping hard and fast as lips close around the tips and suck hard. Tingles race through me and I shove Cas’s head down, hearing him gag when I hit the back of his throat.

I wince. “Sorry.” He doesn’t respond. Instead, gripping me tighter and sucking harder, bobbing his head up and down. I start to pant, arching my back as the pleasure builds. I pull Cas’s head down again, being careful not to gag him as I explode in his mouth.

A startled yelp fills the air and it’s too high—too feminine. My eyes fly open and I scramble away from Lisa’s wide eyes, falling off the couch when my legs get caught in the jeans around my knees. My come drips down Lisa’s chin as she stares at me like I’ve gone crazy.

I feel sick.

 _Not_ Cas. _Why would it be Cas, you idiot?_

“Fuck,” I breath, shaking my head as I stand and pull up my pants. I can’t look her in the eyes and my hands shake on my button. “Fuck!” I shove both hands through my hair before trying again and finally getting them done up.

“Dean…” Lisa places both her hands on my chest and I recoil, stumbling away.

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, spinning away from her and hurrying to the door. This isn’t her fault—I know that—but anger stills bubbles inside me at what just happened. I shouldn't have left, Cas’s place. I should’ve apologized and made sure he knows I didn’t mean what I said. Hell, I should’ve never said what I said. “Fuck!” I pull on my shoes and search for my jacket, feeling like somehow I’ve cheated on him, but that’s insane—we’re not dating; we’re not even friends.

“Did I do something wrong?” She flinches when I whip around to face her and—Jesus Christ—my come is still on her fucking chin.

“Yes! Jesus, wipe your face.” I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath before looking at her again. “Sorry—you didn’t know it was wrong. My fault.” I rub my forehead with the palm of my hand and sigh. “Look…I gotta go,” I say, pulling on my jacket and walking out. I have to get to Cas. Apologize and beg him to forgive me for being such a dick.

I drive to his place as fast as I can, not really knowing what I’ll do when I get there, but I’ll figure it out. I park outside the building and get out, not really knowing what to do from here, so I try the front door, fulling expecting it to be locked. I frown when the knob turns and the door swings open. The ring of the bell is eerie in the dark store as I step inside, locking the door behind me before making my way to the door at the bottom of the stairs. It’s slightly ajar.

My heart beats faster in my chest and I practically run up the steps as fear for Cas sets in. When I make it to the top and that door is unlocked too, my stomach flips dangerously. Pushing inside, I see that Cas is lying on his stomach in the middle of his bed in nothing but his boxers. He’s awake—I can see his open eye blink when I walk in—but he doesn't move. I get _angry_.

“What the _hell_ , Cas? All your fucking doors are unlocked! I could be a murderer for all you know!” He still doesn’t move so I stomp closer, shaking his shoulder and he curls into himself, burying his face in the pillow. My anger spikes and I grab him roughly and shove him onto his back but the fire melts away when I see the tears on his cheeks. His eyes start to fill with more tears as he covers his face with both hands. “Hey,” I say softly, sitting on the edge of his bed and pulling his hands away. “Look at me.”

He refuses, pulling away and covering his face again. “Fuck off,” he spits, turning to face the wall. I rest a hand on his shoulder but he jerks away. A stab of annoyance hits me but I push it off, reminding myself of all the shit I’ve put him through. He deserves to be pissed for how I treated him tonight.

I watch him for a moment before getting up to use his bathroom. I was in too big of a hurry to get away from Lisa and didn’t have time to clean up there, but I can’t apologize to Cas while Lisa’s saliva still coats my dick. Bile rises in my throat at the reminder of what happened not half an hour ago and I have to swallow a few time to keep from throwing up.

When I’m finished, I walk back to Cas, kicking off my shoes and shrugging out of my jacket before rolling his desk chair beside his bed. He stiffens when he hears the wheels but doesn’t react otherwise.

I take a deep breath before speaking, looking at the messy hair on the back of his head as I say what needs to be said. “I’m an asshole.” He snorts but doesn’t comment. I try a different approach. “I remember it, you know? The sex with you. It was one of the first memories of you that came back to me.” I watch him closely but he doesn’t move. He seems frozen in place. “And it wasn’t just _fucking_ , no matter what you say.” I swallow hard and take a deep breath. “I’ve fucked a lot of people, Cas, and you’re not allowed to be mad at me for that. It had nothing to do with you.”

He sniffles and I can see his fingers move to the scar on his wrist, tracing along the edges—he doesn’t speak though, so I continue.

“What we did wasn’t fucking. Maybe I thought it was at the time, but…” I stop, my eyebrows furrowing as I think. “I—I cared so much, Cas, and it terrified me. My dad, he…he beat it into me. _Being gay is wrong. It’ a sin. You’re not a man if you’re gay_. He would literally, physically beat it into me.” I shake my head as my chest constricts with the memory. “But it didn’t _feel_ wrong with you—I remember that much. It felt so damn _right_ and that made me so fucking confused and angry.” I reach forward and place my hand on his arm. It’s a lot more muscular than it used to be and it makes me smile for some reason. “I know you still don’t want me around. I _know_ that, even if you did ask me to show you a memory today. I had fun, though, and I want to hang out with you more, but…” I sigh, tightening my hand on his bicep. “I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

He doesn’t fight me when I turn him over, rolling him to face me. I search his face, trying to meet his eyes but he won’t look at me. He looks…ashamed.

“You know why I didn’t lock the doors?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “Because I didn’t care.” He shrugs, looking down at my chest as he speaks. “Today was probably more fun than I’ve had in…forever. Honestly, it’s probably the best day I’ve ever had. The happiest I’ve been…” My heart sinks. “I should’ve known better. Nothing good ever happens to me—no one cares about me and no one ever loves me enough to stay.”

His voice catches at the end as tears fill his eyes and he bites his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “You just proved me right; reminding me I’m one of many.” He shrugs again and I’m quickly learning that that’s what he does when trying to hide how upset he is. It breaks my heart. “Lisa was the worst of them. She taunted me and harassed me. She used to tell all the teachers that I put my hand up her skirt or slapped her ass or something.” His upper lip curls in a sneer. “She used to touch me, too. I mean, obviously I didn’t like it and that pissed her off.” He rolls his eyes. I try to catch his eyes but he still won’t look at me. The shame’s still there—I can hear it in his voice and see it on his face.

“What aren’t you telling me?” My voice is rife with worry and it spikes when he turns to face the wall again. He doesn’t stay that way though. Turning over, he hands me an empty orange prescription bottle for…I read the label. Sleeping pills? My heart leaps in my chest as I realize the bottle is _empty_. I grip Cas’s chin and make him look me in the eyes. His pupils look normal but that doesn’t mean anything. “How many did you take?” My voice shakes as I dig into my pocket for my phone.

“None. I flushed them so I wouldn’t.” His eyes are hard when I meet them. I glare at him.

“Why—”

“Do you know what it’s like to be told you’re worthless every day for fourteen years? To be told constantly to kill yourself because no one loves you and no one ever will? So you actually try because it won’t matter if you succeed—no one loves you, remember? No one cares. But then you don’t succeed, and _no one cares._ ” His voice catches in his throat as tears well in his eyes, but he keeps going, ripping into my heart with every word. “Then… _then!_ Then the guy you loved in high school shows up and he’s not anything like the guy you used to know. He’s sweet and caring and attentive. He takes you on nice trips and stands up for you. He makes you feel special. He makes you feel cared for.”

“Cas—” My voice catches and my throat burns. It’s too much. It hurts too much.

“But then he reminds you that he doesn’t _really_ care. He goes to help out the woman who sexually assaulted you in high school instead of putting you first. He reminds you that you’re one of too many to count. Do you know what that does to a person? To someone who has never been properly loved in their life?”

He stops and waits but I don’t have an answer. “I—” I shake my head.

“It makes them want to finish what they started.” His whispered words break my heart more than any shouting ever would and I can’t take it. It’s too much pain. He’s been through so much because of _me_ , and there’s _nothing_ I can do to change that. God, I don’t deserve him. Even now as he lays here and pours his heart out to me, I know I’ll never be good enough, but fuck me if I’m not going to try. “I thought I was past this a long time ago—I’m supposed to be _stronger_ than that—but you…” He trails off, shaking his head with so much self-loathing in his eyes that I have to look away.

I pull him to me, not caring that he may not want my comfort. Dammit, I’m giving it to him. He curls into me immediately, though, and I cling to him as I sink to my knees on the floor beside his bed, burying one hand in his hair as the other runs up and down his naked back. His silent tears wet my shirt. My heart aches and the burning swells in my chest as I bury my nose in his hair and close my eyes, feeling the familiar self-hatred rise up inside me.

“Don’t go. Please don’t go.” His muffled plea is barely audible but I hear it and it knocks the wind out of my lungs as I hold him closer.

“I’m not going anywhere; not if you want me to stay,” I whisper. Cas lets out a strangled sob and finally relaxes in my arms. I wait for the impulse to run—the one that always comes when things get too heavy—but it doesn’t. In fact, the only impulse that hits me is to stay—to stay for as long as he lets me. To stay and make him smile every day for as long as I can.


	5. Let's Take A Trip Down Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This is the updated version of chapter five!!! *May 30, 2018*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've kinda given up on warnings. They're in the tags, and if they aren't, let me know.

**_September 30, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

I walk into the library for my fourth meeting with Dean, feeling a little calmer than last time. Things have been getting better with him—I still get shoved into lockers and tripped in the halls but generally Dean and his crew avoid me. He even laughed at a joke I made on Tuesday.

I get to the room first, setting my bag down and pulling out a book while I wait. I marvel at how calm I feel around Dean now. Yes, the sight of him in the halls stills sets my heart racing but it’s not in fear, which could be far more dangerous to my wellbeing than if it were. I like him—the may he smiles sometimes, and how he chews on his nails when he’s nervous or stressed. How, sometimes, when I’m reading his papers I can feel his eyes burning into me almost as if…

I push the thought away every time, though. Dean hates me; there’s nothing going on there.

Sighing, I close the book and check the time. He’s late. He’s usually late but this is late even for him. I pull out my phone, scrolling through Facebook to pass the time. I don’t know why I bother; I just end up feeling worse afterwards.

This time it’s Zach. Pictures and a video of my birthday party litter the screen. The video plays and there’s Dean, holding me by the pool, pretending to shove me in before pulling me back. I’m obviously terrified, but in too much pain to really fight. Then he shoves me in with a splash and I sink right to the bottom, their laughter ringing out through the study room and I have to clench my teeth and swallow hard to keep from falling apart. Everything inside me aches as I read the caption. _Toss a guy in the water. If he floats, he’s straight. If he sinks, he’s a fag. Then leave him there._

The video ends but not before I hear Dean’s shocked voice, _“Can he swim?”_ Then Michael, _“No.”_ I throw my phone on the table and cover my face with both hands, embarrassed and sick to my stomach. _It was my birthday_. That’s what hurts the most about it—everyone gets to be happy on their birthday, _except me._

I pull in a deep, shuddering breath and wipe my eyes, angrily swiping away the tears as I straighten my shoulders and dig through my bag for a pen and my carrot sticks. I don’t eat in the cafeteria anymore—that ended the second day of freshman year—instead choosing to hide during lunch and eat throughout the day.

When I sit back up, I jump, seeing Dean standing in the doorway, his bag thrown over one shoulder as he watches me. I eye him warily—even if he didn’t see me crying, there’s no hiding my puffy, red eyes. He doesn’t mention it but his eyes are different—not as indifferent and annoyed as usual. He almost looks…sad.

“Sorry I’m late. Sammy had an issue,” he says but doesn’t elaborate and I don’t ask. I just shrug, opening my carrot sticks and taking one out. Dean reaches over and takes one without asking and a stab of annoyance sours my stomach even more—especially since I won’t dare to say anything. He watches me as he takes a bite, tilting his head to the side as his eyebrows furrow. “Seriously?” My eyes shoot up to his and I watch him nervously.

“What?”

“You’re just going to let me take your food?” His disbelief is palpable—I’m not sure why he expects anything else though. Has he forgotten I’m his personal punching bag? “Nothing?” I shrug weakly, my shoulders curling inward on instinct to protect myself. I don’t think I can take any more abuse right now, not with the lingering humiliation from the video. I won’t even dare to read the comments.

“Jesus Cas, _do_ something. Get mad—yell at me. Just do _something!_ ” He shouts, hitting his fist off the table. I flinch. Warning bells start going off in my head, telling me to run. _Run, run, run._ But I can’t—he’s closer to the door than me and even if he wasn’t, he’d catch me within seconds. I just stare at him, wide-eyed and shaking as fear for my own safety surges through me. My heart races and my breaths come in short pants as I search wildly for an escape.

Not enough air. _Not enough air!_ I put a hand to my throat as black spots dance in front of my eyes. _No, no, no!_ This is the absolute _worst_ possible time for a panic attack. Everything constricts; every sound in the room muffles except the sound of my heartbeat pounding too loud in my ears and my strangled breathing. I fall off my chair and sink to the floor, reaching frantically for my bag. Tears leak out, knowing there’s not a chance in hell I can get my medication before passing out.

My hands shake as I wrap my arms around my legs and bury my head in my knees, trying desperately to calm down enough to take a deep breath.

Suddenly, there are hands on my head, pulling my face up. I flail, scrambling away and falling on my back as everything darkens. Every nerve ending in my body is screaming at me, telling me to get away. Fear chokes me and I claw at my windpipe, any progress I might have made is gone and I’m sinking again.

There’s a voice in my ear. Soft and soothing—nothing like the one I know. “Cas, it’s okay. Look at me. Look at me and open your mouth.” For some reason I do, parting my lips the tiniest bit. Then a hand is on the back of my head and water is being poured in my mouth. I choke, coughing when my constricted airway won’t let me swallow, but the pill goes down. The rest of the water runs out the sides of my mouth and onto the floor. I turn onto my side and away from Dean, bringing my knees up to my chest as my breathing starts to slow and that drifting feeling that I hate so much clouds my head. I don’t take the Xanax unless I need to; it makes my head fuzzy—like my brain is made of cotton balls—and I’m not alert enough to avoid the football team or anyone else who wants to remind me that no one cares about me.

As my breathing stabilizes and my heart rate calms to a level that’s not dangerous to my health, I realize there’s a hand on my forehead, gently stroking the hair back from my face over and over. I hate myself for liking it—for taking comfort from someone who regularly causes me so much pain—but I can’t push him away right now. This is probably the only comfort I’ll get from anyone for a while, so I soak it in.

When the shame and embarrassment start to settle in my stomach, I get up, sitting back in my chair and taking another carrot stick. I take a bite and chew but I can’t swallow—my throats still too tight—so I just chew and chew, managing to get it down little by little. I don’t take another bite, pushing away the container as Dean retakes his seat.

“Sammy used to get anxiety attacks,” Dean says but I don’t want to talk about it. “It’s okay, Cas—”

“No, it’s not. Not when you’re the cause of them.” I snap, too ashamed to look at him and too angry to care that he beats me up on a regular bases and nothing is stopping him from doing so now. “Your essay,” I say, holding my hand out for it. He doesn’t move.

“Cas—”

“Your essay!” I shout, the Xanax not working quick enough to calm me. My hands shake and my eyes water in frustration. Dean doesn’t argue, pulling out his wrinkled draft and placing it in my hand instead of tossing it at me like he usually does. For some reason this simple kindness gets to me and the shaking worsens. I reach into my bag, grabbing my water and three more pills, downing them in quick succession and not really caring that I’m not supposed to take more than one. One isn't cutting it.

Dean watches me but doesn’t comment. His face is unreadable and my head is too fuzzy to figure it out anyway. I stare hard at the words on the page but they shift and blur in front of me, coming into focus before fading out again. Damn, I hate this. I can see the words but their meaning alludes me. Dean says something from across the table and when I don’t answer, he reaches for my carrots and takes one.

The pen falls from my fingers and I frown, watching as it rolls away, stopping a few inches from the edge. More words from across the table. I sway as the room tilts, my head meets the desk a little too hard but the pain gets caught in the cotton balls as I watch my pen roll over the edge. I like that pen.

A hand slides under my cheek, turning my head to the side and my eyes follow after, seeing green eyes and a worried frown before they blur and my eyes drift away. Then my cheek is back on the table and Dean is gone. I try to follow his movements with my eyes but he’s out of my line of vision so I push myself up, using far more effort than should be necessary. He’s packing his things, taking his essay from me and stuffing it in his bag before zipping it up.

The thought that he could be mad at me for wasting his time crosses my mind but the drugs keep my heart rate steady as I watch him pack my stuff after, closing the carrot container and picking up my pen before packing them away too. He grabs my jacket and phone from the table, slipping my phone into his back pocket and stuffing my jacket in my bag before zipping it up.

There’s an arm around my torso, pulling me from my seat. I stumble, tripping over my feet and into the corner of the table. I’m bent over the table and somewhere in the back of my mind I feel pain but that’s about the extent of it.

There’s a sigh from behind me and then an arm around my torso again, holding me tighter this time and leading me out of the bright room. My mouth is moving but I don’t make a sound. Or, I can’t hear the sound—I’m not sure. Then I’m in a car and Dean’s leaning over me and I’m leaning forward, my nose going into his neck and inhaling deeply. Sweat and cologne and leather and _Dean_. He doesn’t push me away, just staying there for a moment before finishing buckling me up and closing the door.

My head hits the cold glass with a _thunk_ but I smile, liking the sound. _Thunk_ …I do it again and again until a hand moves into my hair and holds my head still.

“Jesus…give yourself brain damage…stop it, Cas…” The bits and pieces of words can’t be from Dean—there’s too much worry. Dean Winchester doesn’t worry about me, so it can’t be him.

The trees start to blur out the window but I can’t be certain of whether or not it’s the drugs or because we’re moving. I close my eyes when my stomach turns.

“Don’t you dare throw up in my car.” The angry voice sounds more like Dean but my muddled head doesn’t care. I stick my tongue out and move my head from side to side mockingly like I used to do with Anna when she annoyed me. I hear a soft chuckle that can’t be Dean’s either.

A door opens and shuts before I open my eyes. The window is gone and my head drops without the support but Dean leans in again and I bury my head in his hair this time, breathing deeply and using him as a headrest.

“Mmm…s-smells good,” I slur as I close my eyes. I’m lifted out of the car and I stumble, slipping from Dean’s hold and landing on my knees on the groan before falling forward, my face hitting the sidewalk.

“Dammit, Cas!” I hear, but it sounds so far away. The ground moves away from my face and I’m held up by strong hands on my shoulders. Suddenly, I’m hanging, my hips are bent over something hard as I sway back and for and when I open my eyes, I’m greeted with the wonderful sight of Dean Winchester’s perfect ass, even if it is a little blurry at the moment.

Then there’s a hand on my ass, and I jerk in shock as it digs into the back pocket of my jeans. My own hands move down to Dean’s ass, sliding into his back pockets. If he’s going to grab my ass than I’ll grab his too. I feel a phone and a wallet under each palm—My phone, Dean’s wallet.

Dean ignores me, pushing open the front door and walking in. “Room?” He asks, not letting me down.

“Stairs,” I say, swallowing heavily as I suck in air, noticing that it’s getting harder and harder to do so. I try to lift my head but find it almost impossible as every muscle in my body fails me. He gets to the top and stops. I hit his left hip for direction and he reaches the end of the hall before I hit his right hip, signaling the room on the right.

He pushes the door open and turns on the light before gently pulling me off his shoulder and laying me down on my bed. I close my eyes and try to focus the best I can on breathing. A hand touches my forehead, stroking back the hair that tickles my eyelids. That can’t be Dean—he wouldn’t do that—but it smell so much like Dean that breathing becomes even more difficult. Everything starts to drift—even my thoughts—until I’m dragged down into a heavy, oppressive sleep.

 

_DEAN_

When I pull my hand away from Cas’s cool forehead his eyes are closed. He doesn’t move but his shallow, even breaths puff against my palm. I don’t know why I’m here—maybe because of his stuttered words as we left the study room. _“Want to know my favourite flower? Sunflowers. Want to know why? They make me feel sunny.”_ His loopy smile flashes in my mind. _“They grow so tall that I feel like I could climb them to get away from the world.”_ Or maybe it’s the way he buried his nose in my hair—the simple words he said and the grin on his face. Contentment—I’d never seen it before. Or the way he shoved his hands in my pockets, saying, _“Touch mine, I’ll touch yours”_ in the most adorable slur. I shouldn’t feel this way—it’s _wrong_. Being gay is _wrong_. And I'm not— _I’m not_. I like girls. But Cas is…no. Cas is nothing. He’s no one. He’s just something to take my anger out on, nothing more.

I take a moment to look around his room. The bed is in the back left corner under the window. On the windowsill sits three flower pots with small vines curling out. The nightstand holds a lamp and an alarm clock along with three different prescription bottles. Across from the bed and beside the door is the closet, the doors are swung open and clothes hang neatly inside. There’s a desk on the right wall with a laptop and notepads with scribbles all over the place.

I walk over to the desk and pick up the note pad. Words written over words and things scratched out, arrows all over the place. I realize it’s a story. Cas writes?

Above the desk is a shelf filled with trophies—tallest sunflower, second place for chess club, first place short story. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. There’s a bookshelf beside the desk and I grin, noticing all the well-loved novels. On the other side of the door is a dresser and photos sit on top in frames. Cas with what I’m guessing is the prized sunflower—it stretches way over his head as he holds it with one hand and the trophy with the other. There’s a small, closed-lip smile on his face and his dark hair hangs in his eyes. My smile softens a little.

There’s another one of him and another boy and the longer I stare at the picture the more I realize I don’t know which one is Cas. They’re about four in the photo with identical eyes and wild hair, their heads resting together and each with anarm wrapped around the other as they smile gap-toothed smiles at the camera. I didn’t know Cas had a twin.

The last is a family photo. Cas’s father holds either him or his brother on his hip, his other arm around a younger version of Cas’s mom. Both their smiles are wide and easy and Anna sleeps in her newly adopted mother’s arms. Gabriel clings to his mother’s leg, her hand resting comfortingly on his head as he smile softly at the camera. The other twin doesn’t look at the camera, choosing instead to hold a seeding dandelion to his face as he sits crosslegged in the grass. His bright blue eyes cross as he blows the seeds away.

I smile—this must be Cas.

I move back to the bed, sitting on the edge and only barely registering his laboured breathing as I pick up an orange bottle and read the label. Alprazolam—Xanax. Sammy didn’t take this one for the anxiety attacks. Diazepam, I think it was. Valium.

_Take one 5mg pill per day. Take 2.5mg extra no more than once per day and as needed. Do not exceed 10 mg or 2 pills per day. Take with water._

My eyes widen as I read the words again and again and think back to the three extra pills Cas downed after the first one. Shit, shit, _shit!_ Who knows if that’s all he took today. I scramble for my phone, looking up the effects of too many pills and my heart sinks at what I find, my hands shaking as I call an ambulance. _Extreme_ _drowsiness_ , check. _Loss of balance or coordination_ , check. _Confusion_ , check. _Lightheadedness_ , check. _Muscle weakness_ , check. _Difficulty breathing_ , check. _Fainting, check_ … _Coma_ , shit.

After calling the ambulance, I shake Cas, trying like hell to wake him up but I can’t. He just lays there, hardly breathing and not moving. “Shit, Cas!” I shake him harder as fear clutches at my heart, squeezing so hard it might burst. “Come on, come on, come on!” I sit with my back against the headboard, pulling his head into my lap and smoothing the hair back from his forehead, brushing a finger over the scrape on his face where it hit the sidewalk. I tilt his head back so his airway is as open as possible like the lady told me and pray they get here soon.

Why the hell is this happening again? Cas must have the absolute _worst_ luck. _Or it’s just you,_ the voice whispers and I shove it away angrily, knowing it’s right. Every shitty thing that happens to Cas is my fault.

 _I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care_. I repeat the words over and over in my head, telling myself I’m only here because I don’t want Cas to die. I might pick on him and knock him around a little but I don’t actually want him to stop living. Even if I tell him that sometimes—I don’t mean it and he knows that. I think he does anyway—he should, after I pulled him out of the pool instead of letting him drown.

I hear the sirens outside and my shoulders sag as far more relief than I’m comfortable with floods me. He’ll be okay…he’s not going to die.

The paramedics burst through the door carrying a stretcher. One of them kneels beside the bed and feels Cas’s pulse while the other one asks me a million questions.

“How many pills did he take?”

“Umm…I don’t know, at least four?”

“Do you know if he’s taking any other medications?”

“I—uh,” I pick up the bottles from the nightstand and hold them out to her. “These maybe? I don’t know.”

“Are you a relative of Mr. Novak?”

“No.”

“Friend? Boyfriend?”

My head shoots back on my neck in shock. “I—no. Neither. He tutors me.” My voice chokes off at the end.

“Do you know how old he is? Is he the age of majority?” The other paramedic is taking Cas off my lap and my hands slip out of his hair.

“He…uh—he’s eighteen,” I say, watching as Cas is strapped onto the stretcher. The paramedic hands me a tissue and I look at her oddly before feeling a tear drip onto my hand from my chin. I wipe at my face angrily, getting up from the bed and following them downstairs. “I’ll follow behind,” I say, gesturing to my car. The woman nods as they load Cas into the back of the ambulance.

I don’t waste any time getting into my car and following behind them all the way to the hospital, parking Baby properly so she doesn’t get towed before running in through the emergency entrance.

They won’t let me in. _Not family_ , they say. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, reminding myself that she’s just doing her job, before finding a seat in the waiting room. I don’t know why I stay—Cas will be fine; he’s not my responsibility. I mean, someone will show up for him eventually.

He’s not even my friend. Annoyance twists in my gut for the first time today—he was supposed to be tutoring me, not drugging up on his meds. I could be at Lisa’s right now, not sitting in a hospital waiting room waiting for news on someone I don't even give a shit about.He’ll be fine.

I push away any kind of feeling I felt towards Cas—all the sympathy and sadness that stopped me from kicking his ass for the past couple of weeks. He’s not important; he’s there for me to let out my anger and make myself feel better. I have to remember that.

I put up a mental wall between Cas and my conscience, resolving to find him tomorrow and remind myself of his use to me.

I stand as a nurse approaches me. “Are you here with Castiel Novak?” She asks and I look down at her name tag. Tessa.

I turn away, throwing out my answer over my shoulder as I leave. “Nope.”

~*~*~*~

I see a head of wild black hair at the other end of the hallway and, nodding to the guys, I take quick, determined steps as they follow behind me, bouncing up and down in excitement as we go. It’s been a while since we really fucked Cas up.

His phone sits like a weight in my pocket and the lack of messages all day doesn't sit right in my stomach. Is he really _that_ alone here? I push the thought away as we catch up to Cas and I wrap my arm around his head, covering his mouth so he won't draw attention as I pull him along with me until we reach the field house beside the track. It’s empty, as it should be at this time. Cas struggles, clawing at my hand as I clamp it down tighter over his mouth and nose, cutting off his air supply just long enough that his thrashing weakens and he stumbles along obediently beside me. I shove him to the floor when the door closes behind us and he stumbles before falling to his hands and knees. A squeak leaves him when his knees hit the floor and an image of him falling like that yesterday flashes in my mind. I push it away, pulling my leg back and kicking him in the ribs, sending him sprawling on his side with a yelp.

He looks up at me as he crawls away, his eyes filled with so much hurt and betrayal. I grind my molars and kick him again, this time in the shoulder. His mouth widens as he clutches it, a cry escaping him as his back hits the lockers. I meet his eyes with a cold look before bending and hauling him up by the front of his shirt, putting my face in his with a sneer.

Tears well in his eyes as he stares at me. “Dean—” he squeaks. I spit on his face and he flinches. I watch as it rolls down his cheek and off his chin. _Stop,_ that incessant voice inside me says. I don’t.

Cas’s face crumples as he looks down, the pain so much worse on his face than normal—emotional pain—and it’s almost enough to break me. I send my fist into his stomach instead but it doesn’t ease my anger like it usually does, so I do it again. Again. Again, again, again because it’s _not helping_. The anger builds instead of lessening. Before I know it, I’m slamming him into the locker so hard it leaves a dent and blood smears the blue paint where a cut opens on the back of his head. And I’m yelling. Shouting horrible, horrible things at him because he _deserves_ to hurt. He deserves the pain for making me _feel_.

He’s crying, tears streaming down his cheeks and I hit him harder because that makes me feel _worse_ and I hate him for that. I don’t even know what I’m saying but my words seem to make him cringe more than the blows so I shout louder and hit harder.

By the time I drop him on the floor I’m breathing hard, my knuckles are bloody and Cas’s wide blue eyes stare up at me through tears. I turn away, feeling sick to my stomach and angrier than I was when I dragged him in here.

“Let’s go,” I say, walking to the door and not meeting any of their eyes.

“What? You dragged us in here just to watch you beat the shit out of the fag? We don’t even get a shot?”

“I said _let’s go!_ ” I shout, my voice shaking as I grab Uriel’s neck and shove him through the door. He cringes when I let him go, moving away from me quickly as the rest of them follow. Cas’s phone vibrates in my back pocket and I pull it out, telling the guys to go ahead without me.

There’s a reminder on the screen and I open it, my heart sinking when I see what it says.

 _Reason’s Not To Kill Myself_. A pained sound escapes me and I lean back against the outside wall. There are five reasons. Just five.

_1\. Sometimes Mom asks me how my day was._

_2\. Someone has to water the flowers in the garden._

_3\. Balthazar won’t have anyone to read his poems._

_4\. Charlie would have to find someone else to play chess with._

_5\. Sometimes Dean doesn’t look at me like he wants me to die._

“Fuck,” I choke out and the tears finally fall. “Fuck!” I take a steadying breath. This doesn’t change anything. It can’t. I can’t care about Cas. Another reminder pops up on the screen and it stops the air in my lungs.

_Somebody will love you._

I sink to the ground and rest my head back on the wall. He really thinks that no one cares.

Really? I guess being told every day that no one does really starts to make you believe it. I shake my head; it doesn't matter. It can’t be me. I can’t care about him—I can’t love him.

A sinking feeling creeps into my stomach and I stand quickly, shoving it away along with that stupid, nagging voice that doesn’t seem to want to shut up. I like girls—that’s the end of it.

Even still, my heart aches with each step I take.

 

**_November 26, 2018_ **

_CASTIEL_

I wake slowly to the sound of soft snoring coming from my couch. I frown, my eyebrows pulling together as I sit up to see two socked feet hanging over the edge. Dean…right.

I flop back down, staring at the ceiling and contemplating what I should so with him. I _should_ kick him out and tell him to never come back—that’s what I _should_ do.

What I _want_ to do is a totally different problem. I want him to stay—to show me another memory that he has of us, even though I know there are very few good ones. I want to know everything he remembers so I can move on.

Move on…right. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

I get out of bed as quietly as I can and head for the bathroom, not bothering to wake Dean. He’ll sleep for awhile more, I’d think. I turn on the shower and drop my boxers to the floor, letting it heat up before stepping into the tub and pulling the specially ordered, transparent shower curtain closed as the bathroom fills with steam.

I try my hardest to ignore what’s going on… _down_ _there_ …as I massage shampoo into my hair, trying to forget the two hundred plus pounds of solid _man_ sleeping on my couch, but…well—it’s hard. I shouldn’t feel this conflicted about _one_ guy. He was horrible to me—there’s no forgetting that—but yesterday…barring the end of the night, he was a totally different person. Happy, considerate…protective. Connecting the two versions of Dean Winchester in my mind is almost impossible, and even more so when he’s actually _here_ to distract me from everything he did in the past.

Sighing heavily, I move my hand down to my aching dick, deciding not to fight it. If I get myself off now, I’ll have a clearer head when I have to deal with Dean after he wakes up.

My stomach jumps as my dick hardens further when I drag my hand over my length, closing my eyes as my head tips back under the hot stream. I hook my thumb, flicking the sweet spot under the rim as my tongue flicks out, catching the droplets of water on my lips. I grip my balls with my free hand, massaging gently as I jerk my hand faster.

“Yes,” I breathe, pumping my hips slowly as I lean back against the wall when my knees dip. I think about all the memories I have of Dean. I shouldn’t, I know, but if I’m doing this to clear my head of Dean, then I need to think of him—of his bright green fuck-me eyes and his big, strong hands that used to grip my thighs, spreading me open for him.

I pump my fist faster as my breaths come in pants. I squeeze my eyes shut to picture him better.

Those lips that used to kiss all over my body, leaving hickeys in places no one would see before bruising my lips with scorching kisses. I bite my lower lips as heat shoots into my groin, the pleasure mounting with every stroke of my fist.

I go back to high school, senior year. The second or third time we had sex. Dean pounding into me, hooking my knees over his shoulders and practically bending me in half. The way he groaned, half drunk on pleasure and half drunk on whiskey. I remember it as if it were yesterday, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

I start to shake as images fly through my mind. Dean undressing me, pulling off everything except my reading glasses—insisting I keep them on. Every nerve ending in my body sings as his hands run through my hair, shoving me to my knees as he brings my mouth closer and closer to his—

The door swings in and my eyes snap open. I stare in wide-eyed shock, breathing heavy and a hand wrapped around my dick as Dean stares back. He just stands there for what seems like an eternity, watching me as my hand stills before lust creeps into his eyes.

A small squeak sneaks up my throat and out my mouth at _that_ look and it seems to snap Dean out of his thoughts. My cheeks burn brightly as humiliation floods me and Dean jumps back out, closing the door behind him.

“Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Sorry! I didn’t hear the shower running and I had to pee and the door was unlocked so I didn’t think—”

“Dean!”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up!” I snap, more angry at myself than at him. What the hell was I thinking? I’m still hard as stone but there’s no way I can finish with Dean _knowing_ what I’m doing. _Okay, so maybe that’s a lie_ , I think as my hands starts moving again, relighting the fire in my stomach and making my breath catch in my throat.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, sorry. I just woke up and didn’t even think about the fact that this is _your_ apartment and that you might be using _your_ bathroom—” He keeps talking but I don’t bother telling him to shut up again. The sound of his gravelly morning voice is doing wonders for my imagination and I quicken my pace, throwing my head back as water sluices down my face and over my chest. I move my other hand into my hair and give it a sharp tug, loving the bite of pain. Dean used to do that—tug on my hair when he came. It drove me wild and still does.

I try my best to hold back my grunts of pleasure but a few escape me as my orgasm hits me, sweeping through me like a tidal wave as I shake against the shower wall, coming all over the shower curtain and watching as it’s washed away.

“—should I just leave? Do you want me to leave?” I hear Dean pause through my laboured breaths, barely registering the question as my knees give out and I sink to the floor. “Cas?” Slowly, I push myself to my feet and turn off the water. Dean knocks. “Cas, do you want me to leave?” I roll my eyes, drying my hair as best I can before wrapping the towel around my waist.

I swing the door open and glare at Dean’s startled face and raised fist. “What I want you to do is _shut up_ ,” I growl, shoving past him and moving to my dresser across the room. 

 

“I have to open my store today,” I say while digging through my dresser for clean clothes. I pull on clean underwear under the towel and then jeans before finding a semi-wrinkled, pale yellow button-up and pulling it on.

Dean’s stands behind me, shifting from foot to foot as he contemplates what to do. I huff but don’t turn to face him. “I could help you?” He suggests, but I reject the idea immediately.

“Just go home, Dean,” I say, but I don’t turn to see his frown as I finish buttoning my shirt. I know it’s there though.“Come on, Cas. Let me help you,” he pleads as I walk away, pulling on my shoes and shooting him a look before pulling open the door and waiting for him to lead the way out.

He panics, his eyes jumping around the room as he tries desperately to find a reason to stay. “Wait! I remembered something else.” His wide eyes should make him look innocent, but I know he’s lying by the way he scratches behind his ear.

“Don’t lie to me,” I snap, narrowing my gaze on him as his shoulders drop. “Let’s go; I have things to do.”

“Sorry. Just…please? I want to take you somewhere.” A small grin curves his lips and— _dammit_ —I guess jerking off didn’t clear my head after all.

I roll my eyes as my frown deepens. “Fine, but just this once,” I snap as a wide grin curves his mouth and he finally grabs his shoes before leaving my apartment.

“I’ll pick you up at five!” He calls over his shoulder on his way to his car.

“Make it five-thirty!” I yell back, seeing him give me a thumbs up over his shoulder.

“Can’t wait!” The impala rumbles to life before roaring down the road and I roll my eyes as I turn on the open sign but I can’t help the little grin that sneaks its way onto my lips.

 

 _DEAN_  

I spend the rest of the day panic cleaning as I worry about Cas’s reaction the what I plan to show him tonight. God, I’m an idiot. He’s never going to speak to me again. In all honesty, I’m surprised he even agreed to this after—well, after I walked in on him getting off in the shower this morning. That image is seared in my brain forever, and I can say—as the full, honest truth—that I’ll be recalling it as often as I can. Cas is… _damn_. Let’s just say he grew up—a _lot_.

By the time five o’clock rolls around, I’m jittery with nerves. _This was a bad idea._ I take deep, calming breaths as I pull on my jacket, and grab my keys. _He’s never going to speak to me again._

By the time I pull up outside of Cas’s store, it’s twenty minutes after five and I’ve come to the conclusion that Cas is going to cut off my balls when I show him the _thing_. Cas comes around from the back of his building in a clean blue button down, pulling the door open and sliding in before buckling his seatbelt.

“This surprise had better be worth my time.” I give him a shaky smile as I pull away from the curb, receiving a suspicious look in return. “Dean…”

“Just…trust me,” I say, holding up a hand to hold off any further objections.

“Yeah, because that has worked out _so_ _well_ for me in the past.” I see him roll his eyes in my peripheral vision and my bottom lip sticks out in a pout.

“Come on, Cas! Don’t be like that,” I whine as I pull up outside my house and into the driveway, throwing Baby in park before looking over at him. His expression is carefully blank, giving nothing away and definitely not telling me if I’m about to lose the family jewels. 

“Why are we here?”

“Jo’s proposing to Charlie tonight. She asked me to have a barbecue so we have to set up before six-thirty.” Cas’s eyes widen and just the tiniest bit of anger colors his cheeks before everything I said sinks in.

“Charlie’s getting engaged?” I let out a nervous laugh, nodding my head as I unbuckle my seatbelt. “So…what? You brought me here as free labor?” An eyebrow raises as a grimace pulls at the corners of his lips.

“Well, yeah.” Both eyebrows raise. Shit. “Also!” I hold up a finger while my other hand covers my crotch. “Also, I know Charlie’s your friend and she doesn’t actually know she’s getting engaged so she couldn’t invite you to it…” I raise my eyebrows, hoping he gets what I’m trying to say so I can stop rambling endlessly. He doesn’t. “Ugh, why do you have to make everything so _hard?_ ” I blow air out my nose and explain. “So I invited you—well, kidnapped you I guess you could say—so you could be here for her!”

My wide grin slowly falters when Cas’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t move, staring at me for what feels like forever as he seems to be warring with himself over something. Probably castration or decapitation. I sigh, “I can take you home if you want.” Even _I_ can hear the disappointment in my voice as I reach for the gearshift.

Then Cas’s hand is on mine on top of the shifter and my eyes shoot to his in surprise. “No. No, don’t take me home.” Then, _finally_ , a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He fights it, but eventually there’s a small grin on his lips and everything is good. Everything is a little bit better. I grin back.

I’m suddenly hit with a memory. Cas is sitting at his desk in his old room, a stack of papers in his hands. He smiles up at me with wide, excited eyes behind those damn glasses.

_“It’s finished, Dean. I’ve finished my novel!” He bounces in his seat, holding it out to me with a grin that makes my stomach flip. I reach for it but he suddenly pulls it back, his eyebrows furrowing as he frowns. “No, don’t read it.” He hugs it to his chest, looking nervous and insecure as he stares at the floor. “You’ll just think it’s bad.”_

_“I won’t.” I smile at him but he doesn’t budge so I let it go._

I’ve never seen him as passionate about anything as he was about that damned book. Whatever happened to that anyway?

I get out of the car and head to my front door, unlocking it quickly and pushing it open. Cas follows me in, shrugging off his jacket and looking around while kicking off his boots and placing them neatly by the door.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to take a shower,” I tell Cas, deciding that I probably got pretty sweaty during the cleaning marathon earlier. Cas nods, turning into the living room and looking around before continuing on into the dining room and kitchen. I hear the fridge open and I smile before grabbing a towel from the linen closet and heading for my bedroom. I shower quickly, knowing that people will probably start showing up anytime. When I hear the front door open, I step out of my bedroom and make my way to into the living room in nothing but a towel and immediately notice two thing. Cas is laying on his stomach across the couch and Sam is leaning against the door frame that leads to the kitchen, staring at Cas with a puzzled grin.

“Is he asleep?” Sam asks, tilting his head at Cas. I shrug, smiling fondly at him stretched out across the leather sectional.

“Maybe. He was pretty tired when we left.” I pull on the underwear and jeans I grabbed from my room before looking at Sam and seeing that he’s dressed a little nicer than usual. Huh, Jo must’ve let him in on the surprise. “When do you have to fly back?” I ask, buttoning the dark gray dress shirt I grabbed from my closet on the way out here. I get the first few buttons done up before the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get that,” Sam says before stopping beside me. “I leave tonight. Just here for Jo and Charlie.” He smiles brightly before continuing on towards the entryway, rushing to answer the door.

I finish buttoning my shirt as I check the time. Just after six. Bending over the side of the couch, I check to see if Cas really is asleep. Yep, like a baby. I leave him, deciding to let him sleep a little bit longer. He looks so peaceful—it almost makes me want to let him stay this way forever—that way he’d never glare at me again

Of course, Charlie has other plans.

She shouts as she barrels in, throwing herself over the back of the couch before I can stop her, landing half on top of Cas and waking him with a jolt as he shoots up and away from her, almost falling off the side before I catch him.

“What the fuck, Charlie?” I shout before I can stop myself. Her smile immediately drops from her face, turning into a look of apology as I glare, more angry at her for interrupting Cas’s peaceful sleep than anything else. Cas smiles though, pulling Charlie into a tight hug when she dives on him again.

“What’s up bitches? Cas, what the hell? You moved back to Lawrence and didn’t even bother to call?” Cas blushes but he doesn’t have an answer, looking up at me instead. The soft smile on his face calms my anger and I grin back.

Charlie flops down on the chair, kicking her legs over one armrest and resting her head on the other. Jo walks in from the kitchen and smiles when she sees me. _She must have snuck past us_ , I think, when she sets down the beers in her hands and wraps her arms around me. I lean in and whisper in her ear. “You okay?”

She pulls back and smiles confidently but her eyes betray her nervousness. “I’m great! Bobby and Ellen will be over in a bit. Charlie just couldn’t wait to see you so she told me to get in the car if I didn’t want to walk.” She shrugs and I chuckle, ruffling Jo’s hair. She punches my shoulder, grabbing the beers from the coffee table and leaving to talk to Sam.

I watch them for a moment, listening to their conversation with a small grin. Cas seems deep in conversation with Charlie so I leave them to it, making my way through the dining room and out the patio door onto the back porch. I smile at my stainless steel grill, caressing the lid before opening it. “Hey, beautiful,” I grin, lighting the burners and cleaning the racks as it heats.

I hear the doorbell ring again but don’t bother moving to get it—Sam can do that. I go inside to grab the steaks and a beer from the fridge before heading back to the grill but not before noticing the pies set out on my counter. My mouth waters but I refrain from taking a bite.

I throw on the steaks and twist the cap off my beer, taking a swig as a shadow moves in beside me. I smile, setting the bottle down and tilting my head to the side to look at Cas.

“I thought maybe you were lonely out here,” Cas says as he shoots me a shy smile.

“Liar,” I say with a smirk. “Charlie’s grilling you for not calling her, isn’t she?” He shrugs with a sheepish smile, looking up at me through his lashes with a small blush darkening his cheeks. I smile, running my fingers through my hair as the steaks sizzle on the grill.

We just stand there like that for awhile; Cas watching me watch him. Eventually, I need to check the steaks and turn away long enough to get the fluttering in my stomach under control. What’s up with that anyway?

The doorbell rings again. “Jesus, did Charlie invite the whole damn city?” Cas laughs, turning away and taking a swig of his own beer.

“That’s probably Bobby and Ellen; Jo said they should be over soon.” I nod, flipping the steaks before following Cas inside, beer in hand. “Did you see the pies?” Cas grins over his shoulder at me.

“Oh yeah, I’m taking one for myself and no one can stop me. I’m not sharing.” I finish off my beer and toss the bottle into the recycling as we pass it on our way to the living room.

Cas pouts over his shoulder. “Not even with me?”

My eyebrows rise at his flirty tone but I decide to go along with it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right? Or something like that. I scrunch my nose up at him, narrowing my eyes teasingly. “Well…maybe just with you.” Cas beams as he turns away.

“Where’s my damn beer, Boy?” Bobby says, pulling me into a hug before pushing me back and patting me on the shoulder. “Don’t let Ellen see ya looking so thin, you’re bound to get a damn lecture about it.” He shoots me a wink before passing me to grab himself a beer from my fridge.

“Dean! Take this, would you?” Ellen says, shoving a great big bowl of potato salad into my arms. “And take some for yourself while you're at it—you’re too thin.” She slaps my flat stomach and wraps an arm around my shoulders in a hug. I stoop down to meet her, kissing her cheek.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a chuckle.

“Don’t call me that; it makes me feel old. I ain’t old.” She frowns but there’s fondness in her eyes.

“No, you aren’t old,” I reply before she spots Cas, eyeing him up and down as I leave him to the momma bear of all momma bears. He’ll be fine. I set down the potato salad and scoop some onto a plate, knowing Ellen is serious and I’ll hear about it if I don’t, before stepping outside to check the steaks. The doorbell rings again and I assume it’s Benny and Andrea since he told me he’d be coming.

When I walk back inside I see both of them and Garth, sitting on the couch and lecturing Cas on werewolves as Cas tries to find a polite way to leave the conversation. Benny steps up behind Garth and puts him in a headlock.

“Come on Garth, quit scaring the poor guy.” Cas smiles at him gratefully, getting up off the couch and looking around the room. I watch for any sign that he's uncomfortable but he looks content, if a little tired. When his eyes land on me, a small, reluctant smile touches his face as he hurries over. He grins when he sees my food, taking the fork from my hands and closing his mouth over the end, glancing up at me as he pulls away. He chews, closing his eyes and groaning at the taste.

I roll my eyes but my pants tighten a bit when he licks his bottom lip. “Good?” I ask as I reclaim my fork and he nods, stealing it back and taking another bite. “Wouldn’t you rather have your own fork? You know, boundaries?”

“It’s not like we’ve never shared saliva, Dean,” he says, stealing another bite while shooting me his sassiest look. Jody and Donna walk through the door then, still in their police uniforms. I smile, waving at Jody when I catch her eyes from across the room. She grins back, raising a questioning eyebrow when Cas steals another bite from my plate and I don’t immediately snap at him like I would with anyone else.

Cas pays no attention to me when I mouth the word _friend_ to her while pointing at him with a shrug, too absorbed in stealing all my food to notice. A wide grin breaks across Jody’s face when she gets the message I definitely wasn’t giving, winking before saying hi to the rest of the crowd. Is it really that obvious?

Cas hums in displeasure after a few minutes and I look down at my plate, finding it empty as Cas scrapes the excess sauce from it. I chuckle, resisting the urge to kiss his forehead, and take the fork from his hands instead as he pouts. “Come on, there’s more in the kitchen.” I start to lead Cas away when the doorbell rings again. Frowning, I look around and see that everyone’s here. “Uh, let me get that. The bowl’s on the counter beside the microwave,” I say, heading to the door.

I swing it open, freezing when I see who’s standing on the other side. “Hey, Dean,” Lisa says, smiling up at me from my front stoop.

“Lisa…what are you doing here?” I try not to frown, but I’m shocked. I definitely didn’t invite her; not with Cas here.

“Benny mentioned you were having some friends over and I thought Ben and I constituted as friends, so…here we are!” She smiles wide, gesturing at her and Ben, who stands behind her with his arms crossed over his chest. He gives me a small smile and I wave pathetically as she pushes past me.

“I told her not to come but she wouldn’t listen,” Ben tells me and I force a small smile for his sake and nod.

“Go grab yourself some food, kid,” I say, slapping his shoulder as my heart races. “Benny,” I hiss, dragging him away from Garth and Andrea. “Why the hell did you invite Lisa?”

“Shit brother, she came into the restaurant and was talking to Andrea. She brought it up to Lisa before I could stop her.” I sigh, patting him on his shoulder.

“Shit,” I breathe, knowing Cas will be upset.

“It’s not that bad,” Benny says with a shrug. “At least everyone here likes her,” he says and I glare at him.

“Yeah, everyone except Cas,” I hiss.

“Cas? What does he have to do with anything?” I roll my eyes, scanning the room but not seeing him.

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t think the guy I like will mind seeing the woman I used to fuck on a regular bases, do you?” I snap sarcastically. “Oh, and, _and_ , she used to fucking _sexually_ _assault_ him in high school.” I’m seething, so angry I could hit someone. This is _not_ good. It can’t be happening. Not today, not now. Cas is just starting to open up to me. I don’t remember a time when he smiled so much at my jokes and if Lisa ruins that…Shit.

“Shit, brother, I’m sorry. Want me to get her out of here?”

“If only you could,” I sigh, shaking my head. “Fuck!” My eyes widen when Cas steps out of the kitchen, grinning down at his heaping plate of potato salad, and steps right into Lisa. The plate slams into his shirt and his face falls as it drops to the floor. Then he looks up, ready to apologize, when his eyes lock on Lisa’s. His jaw clenches and he looks so angry he could hit her but I see the shine in his eyes—read his thoughts on his face—the disappointment at having yet another good thing ruined.

Then his eyes turn to me and my heart sinks at the betrayal in his eyes. All I can do is stand there as his face crumples and he hurries down the hall. I chase after him, grabbing his arm when he reaches my bedroom.

“Cas, I didn’t—she just showed up…I didn’t invite her.” He nods but refuses to look at me.

“It’s your party,” he shrugs. “You can invite whoever you want.” I flinch at the bite in his tone. The sharp edge that lets me know everything is _not_ okay. I sigh, at a loss for what to do, but I know that I need him to look at me.

“Hey, look at me.” I brush some potato salad off his chin and wipe it on his shirt. “Go rinse off and change into one of my shirts, okay? I have to go get the steaks off the grill before they burn.”

“Okay,” Cas whispers and I search his eyes one more time before turning him around and gently nudging him into my bedroom and closing the door behind him.

I stand outside the door for a moment, hesitant to leave him but knowing I have to get the steaks. I take a deep breath and force myself to move. The mess is cleaned up when I get to the living room and Lisa is chatting happily with Andrea, unconcerned about upsetting Cas—just like she always was, I guess.

I step outside and pull the steaks off the grill. They’re only a little overdone and the only one who will complain is Sam so I don’t worry about it—he always complains about my steaks anyway.

Speak of the devil. Sam steps out behind me, patting my shoulder as he looks over it at the steaks, wrinkling his nose. He doesn’t comment though. “How’s Cas?” He asks instead, looking at me worriedly.

I sigh, shrugging a little. “I don’t know. He’s upset—Lisa was really shitty to him in high school so having her here in the first place…well—he was kind of blindsided.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking out over the back yard. “I don't want to accuse her of anything, but it kind of looked like she did it on purpose, you know? She saw him come out of the dining room and moved in his way…” Sam looks at me meaningfully and my heart sinks.

“Shit. Can you take these?” I ask, handing the steaks to Sam. “I need to go check on him—make sure he’s not too upset. I shouldn’t have brought him here.” I shake my head at myself as guilt creeps in.

“You didn’t know this would happen. There’s no way it’s your fault so don’t start blaming yourself,” Sam says, narrowing his eyes on me as I look out on my backyard.

“Everything that’s ever happened to him is my fault, Sammy. There’s no getting away from that.” Sam opens his mouth to say something but I speak first. “I have to go check on Cas.” Sam nods and I hurry inside, filling up another plate of potato salad before putting some in a container for later and hiding it in the back of my fridge. Then I go find Cas.

 

_CASTIEL_

Pulling off my shirt, I fold it neatly and set it on the bathroom counter. I place my hands on the edge and lean forward, letting my head hang between my arms as I take deep, steadying breaths, desperately fighting back tears. Why the hell does _she_ have to be here? Can’t I have just _one_ good day? Just one?

The cruel glint in her eye as she smiled triumphantly when she knocked into me flashes in my mind. My stomach turns and I feel sick. She was always the worst of all the girls—going so far as to corner me in washrooms and touch me. Then she’d get mad when I didn’t react and accuse _me_ of touching _her_ —something else I was beaten up for. She made coming to school almost as miserable as the football team did—and she’s _here_.

I swallow thickly and decide I need a little more time to gather myself. Stripping out of my clothes, I notice some potato salad on my pants and fold those too, setting them with my shirt before turning on Dean’s shower, letting the water heat up before I step in and slide the glass door closed.

Ducking my head under the water, I close my eyes and sigh in relief, feeling my muscles relax under the hot stream. I look at the shelves and pick up Dean’s body wash. Shrugging, I squirt some in my palm and lather it over my body, washing away chunks of potato salad. I hope he won’t mind, but I guess it’s too late to worry about that now.

Picking up his shampoo, I debate whether or not to use it but decide I might as well since I’ve already used his body wash. Squirting it into my hand, I lather it into my hair, inhaling deeply when the smell of Dean hits my nose. I hate how much I love it.

I’m rinsing my hair when I hear the bedroom door close and my eyes snap open in surprise, immediately burning from the flood of bubbly water that washes into them. I shout, rinsing the rest out of my hair and rubbing my eyes as I search blindly for the tap. I turn off the water and stumble out of the shower with my eyes closed.

My eyes feel like they’re burning out of my head as I shout to who I assume is Dean in the next room. “Your shampoo is like acid,” I whine, rubbing my eyes as I search for a towel.

“Dean?” I hear the unmistakably _female_ voice from the other side of the door and every muscle in my body locks up as I struggle to clear my vision.

I don’t answer, hoping she takes the silence as a hint to go away.

The bathroom door creaks open and I freeze. “Oh!” Her startled gasp turns cruel and I can’t see her face, but I’m almost positive there’s a smirk to match her tone. “That’s weird…Dean told me to see him in here,” she chirps and my heart drops. I know I shouldn’t believe a word she says but…well…

I search frantically for a towel, slipping on the wet floor and just barely managing to catch myself before landing on my ass. Lisa offers no help and I curse the bitch.

My stomach turns at the thought of Lisa and Dean together. It shouldn’t—it wouldn’t be the first time and it’s not like we’re together or anything. I don’t want that—I _don’t_. But there’s something…something small and insistent that niggles at the back of my mind. It brought me here tonight; gave me hope that maybe…

“He really does love all our alone time, if you know what I mean.” I do. I do know. And I hate that I believe her. I can almost picture her leaning against the doorframe with her hip cocked out and that hateful smirk.

Thankfully, mercifully, I find a towel, rubbing at my burning eyes and cracking them open to see Lisa in a slightly different position than I’d imagined—smirk still in place but standing with her ankles crossed and her hands in her back pockets. I wrap the towel around my waist and distract myself by rinsing my clothes beneath the tap and throwing them on in a rush.

“You know, it was just yesterday that I gave him a blowjob that made him come in seconds—”

Every part of me recoils at her words and I sink into myself as Dean’s sharp voice cuts through the air.

“Lisa!” I’m stuck—my feet glued to the floor as my eyes turn to Dean. My heart thumps harder in my chest when I see the guilt on his face. The panic in his eyes.

“Dean?” I whisper, waiting—hoping and praying for something other than what I know is true. He doesn’t answer.

Disappointment and _betrayal_ —so potent I feel it in my bones—seeps in and my burning eyes water as my stomach twists, threatening to bring all the potato salad back to the surface. I should have known it was too good to be true—that I couldn’t pretend, even for a day, that I could have this. That even just for a _day_ , I could pretend that nothing was broken between us. Reality always forces its way in and ruins everything.

I shake my head and clench my teeth as bitter anger swells inside me and I shove past them as the first tear falls.

“Cas, wait—” I don’t; practically running for the door and barely grabbing all my things before fleeing down the street.

God, I’m so _stupid!_ How could I ever think anything would be different? People don’t change. Ever. They get comfortable in who they are and they don’t change.

I don’t see the houses as I storm passed, too angry at myself and at Dean and at the whole fucking _world_ to pay attention to where I’m going or to even establish a destination.

I walk and walk and walk. I don’t stop walking for I don’t know how long. Not even when that _stupid_ impala rumbles up beside me.

The driver’s side window rolls down but I ignore him.

“C’mon Cas! Just let me drive you home,” he pleads, but I just keep walking. He just doesn’t get it. “You’re not even going the right way!” My eyes narrow slightly. He doesn’t understand. “It’s the least I can do.” God, he just doesn’t _get it!_ I want to snap at him—I want to yell and shout and scream that he _just doesn’t get it_ , but he _doesn’t_ get it. He doesn’t remember.

I stop in my tracks and the impala jerks to a halt as I round the front of the car and get in, not looking at him as I give him a clipped instruction.

“Drive to the high school.”

“What? Why—”

I cut him off. “It’s my turn to show you a memory."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...I don't know how I feel about this chapter and it might change as I figure out the rest of the story but for now, this is it. *I didn't like it so I changed it:)*
> 
> Your comments bring joy to my otherwise dreary days so please leave one even if it's only small!


	6. Paint You In Shades Of Red And Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This is the updated version of this chapter. Any chapter posted after this will follow this current plot. *May 30, 2018.*
> 
> Also can y'all see when I've updated something? Like, does it notify you or no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYYYOOO! Ok, so this I'm posting this chapter with a warning that I may not be posting for a while because I'm leaving the country WOOT WOOT! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and leave a comment to make my day!

**_October 2, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

The doorbell rings as I swallow my meds, my head still pounding from being slammed into a locker one too many times yesterday. I take my time walking down the stairs and don’t bother to check to see who it is before swinging open the door.

I immediately regret that choice when I see who’s standing there and try to slam the door in his face. Dean’s hand shoots out, stopping me from closing the door and he steps closer but doesn’t force his way inside. I glare at him, noticing for the first time how shitty—relatively speaking—he looks, with dark circles under his eyes and in the same clothes as yesterday.

“Wait, Cas. Just…wait.” For some reason, I do. I don’t say anything as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a phone. My phone? My eyebrows furrow as I stare at it—I thought I’d lost it for good. “I um…I came to return it.” He shrugs, handing it over but still not leaving.

“Is that all?” I raise an eyebrow when he shuffles his feet, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“No, uh…you never tutored me on Thursday and I still need my essay looked at, so…” He trails off. “Would you mind if we did that now? Please?” Maybe it’s the _please_ that does it. Or the exhaustion in his eyes and the slept-in clothes. Or maybe it’s the little way my heart flips whenever I see him. Whatever the reason, I end up agreeing and wave him inside.

He follows me into the kitchen, sitting at the table as I search for a pen. The politeness that my mom ingrained in me forces me to be a good host. “Did you want something to drink?” I ask, listing off some options as I look through the fridge.

“Got any whiskey?” He asks, a smirk on his face. He can take that smirk and shove it up his ass. Grabbing two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the top of the fridge, I set them on the table and pour two inches into both. “It was a joke.”

“Drink it,” I snap, shoving one of the glasses in front of him and silently daring him to refuse. He shrugs, lifting the glass to his lips and throwing it back. He licks a drop off his bottom lip and slides the glass back to me. I shouldn’t find that so damn hot.

I do the same, lifting the glass to my lips and swallowing it down with a few quick gulps before setting the glass on the table and licking my bottom lip. Dean’s eyes follow the movement as his eyebrows raise in surprise. He nods, impressed.

“All right, again.” I pour the same amount in both glasses and slide his back over. We drink at the same time and I pour another. My head is starting to swim at this point but I don’t care; no one will be home until late tomorrow—Mom’s at a work conference in Seattle for the weekend and Anna is at a sleepover—so it doesn't matter that I get drunk with Dean Winchester. No one cares.

We’ve killed half the bottle by the time we pause andDean’s eyes droop as a soft smile tilts his lips. “All right, hand me your essay,” I say, holding out my hand for the draft. Dean digs through his bag as my head tilts—or maybe the table tilts—but I shake it off, taking the cap off my red pen with my teeth and bending over the paper.

Dean pours himself another drink as I read, filling the small glass to the top and throwing it back. He does this twice more before I finish. The paper is covered in red ink when I’m done and they may or may not comment on more than just the strength of the argument and wording of the thesis. They may or may not talk about how hot it is when Dean licks the drops of whiskey off his bottom lip. They may or may not mention how much I want to do that for him. Maybe—or maybe not.

I hand it back to him but he doesn't bother reading it before he shoves it back in his bag, almost falling off his chair as he bends over and knocking his head on the table when he sits up. I laugh, throwing my head back and closing my eyes as I hold my stomach. When I look back at him and wipe the tears from my face, he’s staring at me with heated eyes. My stomach flips and I reach for my glass, filling it halfway before tossing it back. I set the glass down with a thud and then I’m on the floor with no recollection of how I got there. I hear Dean’s chair slide back before he’s upside down above my face, his glassy, bloodshot green eyes staring down at me as he grins.

“Get up you stumbling, drunken freak.” He pulls me up and we both stumble drunkenly into my living room, falling onto the couch. Dean has an arm around my shoulder as he leans heavily into my chest. It feels nice; his hard body pressed up tight against mine and his arm pulling me in close. I look up at him with wide eyes as he leans in, his whiskey breath on my face as he stares at my lips. They part on harsh breaths and my heart gives a kick in my chest but whether it’s telling me to run or stay, I don’t know.

I stay.

Dean’s arm tightens around my neck as he leans closer, his leg moving on top of mine as his other hand rests on my other thigh. He squeezes it before running his hand up and down my jean-clad leg. I’ve never been so hard in my life—whether that’s from Dean, the alcohol, my meds, or a mixture of all three, I couldn’t tell you. I lick my lips and Dean groans.

“Have you ever kissed a guy before?” Dean asks, his breath ghosting across my face. I shake my head—no one has ever wanted to kiss me before. “Me neither,” he whispers, his hand tightening on my thigh.

I swallow hard when Dean rests our foreheads together, my heart pounding with excitement and fear. His lips brush mine once. Twice. I groan.

Then his lips are pressing _hard_ , forcing mine open as his tongue moves inside. I match his moves, pulling him closer with my hands on his neck as his push into my hair. He bites my lip before soothing it and thrusting his tongue deeper into my mouth, exploring roughly as he pulls me under him, straddling my hips and grinding down on my lap.

I whimper from the friction and he pulls away, watching me intently as he does it again. My eyes fall shut on a moan, my mouth falling open, and he kisses me again, his hands leaving my hair and creeping under my shirt, feeling every inch of my skin as he continues grinding on my hard length. He’s hard too, groaning with every thrust as he scratches down my chest. My hands move from the back of his neck to his shirt and I grip it in tight fists, pulling him closer.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be—Dean’s straight and he hates my guts. There’s no way this is anything but the best dream I’ve ever had. It feels so real though—the bite of pain when his nails rake down my chest and the sharp sound of his gasp when I thrust my hips up into his.

The sound of the front door closing.

I shove Dean off of me, knowing even in my alcohol drenched brain that if anyone catches us _I’d_ be the one to suffer. He hits the ground with a thud, looking up at me with a _what the fuck?_ face as I stare at him with wide, terrified eyes as feet thump up the stairs. I open my mouth to speak but Dean’s palm is suddenly covering my mouth, his other hand holding the back of my head so hard that I wince.

“Tell anyone and I’ll break your fucking neck,” he spits, shoving me back on the couch and hurrying from the room on much steadier feet. I hear him grab his things but I’m too stunned to move. The impala rumbles to life and I only faintly worry that he’s driving drunk before the thought slips away. I head into the kitchen, grabbing the rest of the whiskey and setting the glasses in the sink before taking the bottle to my bedroom, finishing it within the hour and falling fast asleep.

 

**_November 26, 2018_ **

_DEAN_

The silence is deafening but I don’t dare to turn on the music. Cas stares hard out the windshield, his jaw clenched as anger radiates off of him. I open my mouth to explain—to give my side of the story—but think better of it and close my mouth again.

I pull into the high school parking lot and a whole different kind of fear settles in my stomach. Whatever Cas has to show me; it can’t be good. Not by the look in his eyes, or…well, our history. I don’t think about the fact that we’re missing Jo proposing or that I didn’t get a chance to tell Sam I was leaving—I didn’t even grab my phone. They’ll be fine without me there, though; this is more important.

Cas doesn’t say anything as he leads me past the school and around back to the football field. My heart skips a beat at the once familiar space that’s now as foreign to me as Europe.

I’m so distracted by the field that I don’t notice when Cas steps into the field house. I stop outside the door, my eyes drawn to the patch of grass on my left. There’s nothing special about it really, but something nags at me from the back of my mind. Something…

“Dean!” Cas snaps, glaring at me from the doorway. I shake my head and step inside, pushing the strange feeling away for the moment.

Cas doesn’t speak as I take in the benches and locker-lined walls. It all looks pretty ordinary to me and I can’t imagine what horror Cas sees when he looks at the rows and rows of blue. There’s an open space just inside the door with benches along the sides but none at the back. This is where the coach talks to the team before the game. I know this instinctively, but I can’t remember a time when I sat on these benches.

I walk along them, running my fingers over the cool metal as Cas watches on. Flat, smooth metal until I get to the back wall and my fingers reach a little further.

I tilt my head and lean closer, examining the large indent in the metal. It would take a lot of force to make a dent like that. Someone’s fist maybe? That would’ve done some serious damage. It looks too high to be from a kick. My eyes narrow as I notice some missing paint.

“A baseball bat maybe…” A low huff reaches my ears and I look over my shoulder at Cas’s disbelieving face. “What?”

“My head.”

My whole face screws up in confusion. Is he nuts? “Huh?”

“The dent. My head made it. Well, actually you made it _with_ my head.” My eyes move back to the dent before shifting to Cas once again, not fully able to grasp what he’s trying to say. _I_ did that? With Cas’s _head?_

“I don’t get it,” I deadpan, and he looks at me like I’m stupid.

He takes a few steps forward, never once breaking eye contact as he speaks. I don’t move; frozen in place as the intensity in his eyes burns into me. “You forced me in here,” Only a few steps away. “Threw me on the ground,” Less than a step. “Dragged me up by my _hair_ ,” Nose to nose. “Grabbed me by the front of my shirt,” His hand closes around my collar. “ _Spat_ in my _face,_ ” My eyes widen as his voice rises and his ire swells, filling the small space. “And slammed me into the lockers,” I’m shoved back against the cold metal. It doesn’t hurt but I yelp as I watch Cas quickly unravel in front of me. “Over and over and over until you got bored.” He does this, pulling me forward before slamming me back. None of it hurts physically, but the tears in Cas’s eyes twist my stomach into too many knots to untie.

My hand moves to his wrist, holding tightly as he grips my collar with white knuckles. He’s shaking and his eyes have fallen to somewhere around my neck. Tears well in his eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. I wrap my other hand around the back of his head, threading my fingers through his hair, and pull him into my chest.

He fights me, shoving against my chest, and I let him go. Even though it hurts, I let him go. “No! No, you don’t get to comfort me because of something _you_ did! It doesn’t work like that, Dean! You don’t get to be the hero!” He hurls the words like knives and I take every hit. What else can I do? I deserve his anger. I caused his pain so I deserve his hate.

I still flinch with every hate-filled word, though, as he thrusts his finger at me while tears stream down his cheeks. I’ve never seen his eyes so blue or so broken and that hurts me. God, it shouldn’t hurt me like this but it _does_. Cas’s pain is my pain. I let him hurl it at me if only to relieve some of the weight that he carries. That’s all I want.

He’s out of breath by the end of his rant, his shoulders rising and falling quickly with every labored breath. I notice he’s shaking—trembling with too much emotion being purged. He wipes angrily at his cheeks and turns around, not looking back as he reaches the door. “Take me home,” he says, and I follow obediently. What else can I do?

I step through the door and my eyes are immediately drawn back to the patch of grass on my right. That nagging feeling tickles in the back of my mind again, refusing to be pushed aside but unwilling to reveal the reasoning either. I step towards it as my eyebrows furrow and sit without intending to sit, dropping my head against the wall without intending to drop my head against the wall. I frown as I dig into the memory. I’ve sat here before…I know it, but _why?_

Closing my eyes, I squeeze them tight and a phone pops into my mind. Not my phone. I don’t remember what I was looking at but…tears?

Yes, I was crying.

Sobbing, actually. Then it seems to hit me all at once and I lose my breath. Cas’s pitiful excuse for a list of reasons not to kill himself. I read it after…after…Shit. After I dented the locker door with his skull.

My eyes fly open and shoot to Cas who’s watching me with far too many emotions in his eyes to name. Annoyance is there. So is sadness and anger and a little curiosity.

“I cried.” His eyes narrow. “After doing…that.” I point over my shoulder at the field house door. “I remember…crying.” I shake my head and so does Cas.

“No. No, you wouldn’t have done that. You loved making me hurt.” I glare at him, frustrated because I know I’m right. This isn’t just wishful thinking. It’s a memory.

“ _No,_ I remember, Cas! I had your phone and…and you had these… _reminders_ on it. _Reasons Not To Kill Myself_ , or something like that. I fucking bawled like a baby because…because I _hurt_ you.” I throw my arms out to my sides in defeat as I stare up at Cas. His face is a mask of emotionlessness. Unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes that I can’t name.

Then he looks down at the ground, standing like that for a long time as I sit in the grass. _I can’t keep doing this_ , I think. _It’s tearing me apart._ I immediately chastise myself; what I did to Cas is infinitely worse. I can live through being reminded of what I did. I _can_ and I _will_. It’s far less than I deserve.

Cas looks up at me after a bit. His eyes are so, _so_ tired. And sad. “Take me home?” His voice is a whispered request and I nod as I push myself to my feet and follow a few paces behind him on our way to the parking lot.

I slide into the front seat and shove the key in the ignition but I don’t start it, just sitting there for a minute.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me? Just to see Jo’s proposal?” I add the second part quickly when I see Cas’s eyebrows furrow. They smooth out but he doesn’t look at me as he thinks. Eventually, he turns his head and his bloodshot eyes meet mine.

He shakes his head slowly. “Please, just take me home.” I flinch when his raspy voice hits my ears. Sadness oozes from him. Sadness and defeat. I think that hurts more than anything—the look of a man who has given up. His face falls in places that it shouldn’t and his eyes…red-rimmed and puffy. Abnormally puffy…

“What’s up with your eyes?” The words fall out before I can catch them and Cas’s head snaps in my direction.

The eyes in question narrow. “The acid you call shampoo.” His upper lip curls as a small, reluctant smile touches my lips. “At least I can see now,” he grumbles, turning his head to the side and wincing. I press my lips together in my best effort to hold back my laughter, biting down hard as my shoulders shake and Cas turns back to face me with a glare. “Are you laughing at me?” He asks in a voice holding more than a little threat. I shake my head quickly, trying to force my lips into a straight line as Cas glares with those red fucking eyes.

I lose it, chuckles bubbling up from my chest and bursting out as Cas clenches his teeth. I must look insane, laughing like a hyena over nothing, really. But once I start, I can’t stop. Cas looks like he’s about to knock my teeth in but tears are streaming down my face and my stomach aches from clenching so hard and I just _can’t_ stop.

I almost die from shock when a small smile turns up the corners of Cas’s lips, lighting up his previously dull eyes as the red makes the blue, bluer. His eyes look huge in their sockets and he looks so innocent at that moment that I’m taken back to that day.

My breath halts in my throat as a flash of wide, terrified baby blues stare up at me from the floor. Face bloody and bruised. Red and blue. The lockers: blue and red.

I squeeze my eyes tight and shake my head furiously to clear it, fighting the tightening in my throat as Cas watches on. Every muscle flexes and releases as I struggle to catch my breath. _It’s over. It’s okay—Cas is okay._

But it’s not okay. It’s _not_ over—Cas relives these horrors every day. Every minute of his life—every step and every choice—is governed by what we did to him—what _I_ did to him—and I can’t even remember almost all of it.

I drive Cas home in silence. He doesn’t ask about what happened but I can see in his eyes that he wants to know. I can’t tell him—not right now anyway. Not today.

He doesn’t wave when he gets out—doesn’t say a word. I don’t either and he just looks at me warily for a moment before turning away and disappearing into the alley.

 

I’m quiet when I walk back into my house, but no one seems to notice, or if they do, they don’t mention it.

“Get me some pie, would you, Sammy?” I say as I flop down on the couch and grin at him. He rolls his eyes but still heads for the kitchen, bringing me back a huge slice of apple pie. I thank him and shove the fork in my mouth, using it as an excuse not to talk to anyone for a while.

I glance up when I’m finished my pie and meet Jo’s eyes. She looks nervous as she rubs her palms on her knees and leans forward. I nod, smiling for comfort as she stands.

“Charlie.” She smiles nervously, sitting back down on the edge of the chair and taking Charlie’s hand. “Since the first time we met and you made Dean introduce us,” she smirks and Charlie swats at her arm. “I knew you were something special.” Tears well in Charlie’s eyes. “I knew I couldn’t let you go. Even though your hobbies are ridiculous—”

“Hey! LARPing takes a lot of skill, you’re just mad that—”

“I love you anyway,” Jo says, talking over Charlie with a smile and an exasperated eye roll. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” She gets down on one knee in front of Charlie and is tackled to the floor with a chorus of _yes_ before she can even pull out the ring. We laugh and I find that I’m able to sink into the background, going unnoticed while the happy couple is given congratulatory hugs.

The crowd leaves slowly after that, trickling out and leaving only Bobby when Ellen decides to catch a ride back with Garth.

“You gonna be okay?” Bobby grunts from the chair across the room. I shrug, looking down at my hands as I contemplate his question.

“I don’t know. I did some pretty fucked up shit to him, Bobby.” Bobby gives me a knowing look, raising his eyebrows as if to say he knows exactly what shit I put Cas through.

“Ain’t that the truth,” he snorts, finishing off his beer and setting the bottle aside. “But you’ll be there for him, won’t ya? You two’ll get through it.”

“Yeah…” I nod, not really paying attention to his words. “Thanks, Bobby,” I say, but I don’t really know what I’m thanking him for. For always being there, I guess. He nods, sighing heavily as he pulls himself from the chair and adjusts his hat.

“I’d better get gone. Ellen will worry if I’m too much later.” He comes over and slaps my shoulder and I follow him to the door.

“It was nice seeing you. We don’t get together nearly enough.”

“That reminds me, Ellen’s having a dinner next Sunday as a late Thanksgiving. Be there at six.” I nod, closing the door behind him and flipping the lock.

I head to my room, my eyes drooping as I stumble down the hall and strip out of my clothes before falling into bed.

I lie there for a long time, unable to sleep despite my exhaustion and stare up at the ceiling as the clock ticks the hours away. The events of the day run over and over in my head. Cas’s eyes—the blue and the red from then and now. It all jumbles together until I pass out from pure exhaustion, not feeling even a bit rested from my fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that should answer some questions for some of you.
> 
> Anyway, I'll try to get one more up before I leave but no promises! 
> 
> Love you all!
> 
> P.S. (EDIT)
> 
> I've found a way to write this story in a way that will make me (and hopefully all of you) happy with it, so be prepared for a lot of changes (Think entire overhaul). As a result of this, I will stop posting for a while.
> 
> Bare with me on this! I hope you will like the changes I make but, ultimately, these changes are being made because I am not happy with the story thus far.
> 
> P.P.S.
> 
> I've finished re-working the chapters and will now be posting the new ones. I'll be writing them between working and sleeping so don't be surprised if they aren't posted very often as I also don't have internet most of the time. Anyway, I hope you love the changes and I'd love to hear what you think!


	7. Sick Of Missing You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Y'all! So I've finally changed everything that I didn't like and hopefully, it's more believable for you. If it isn't, let me know because, yes, I write the story that I want to write, but I also write it so all of you can read it. If the majority of you aren't happy, then neither am I. That being said, if I disagree with something mentioned, I won't change it.
> 
> Your honest feedback is STILL so important to me so please keep it coming!
> 
> Okay, love you all and I hope you like where the story goes from here!
> 
> Warnings are in the tags.

**_October 5, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

I don’t know why I insisted on meeting at Cas’s house today and I couldn’t give Cas more than a snippy reply when he asked, telling him I didn’t want to be seen with him in public, but that’s not exactly true.

I shuffle my feet awkwardly and stuff my hands in the pockets of my letterman jacket as Cas fumbles with his keys and unlocks his front door.

“Anna?” Cas calls as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs out of that ridiculous trench coat. I follow behind him, toeing off my boots but leaving my jacket on.

“In my room!” A far off voice reaches us and I watch as Cas’s shoulders slump in relief. Annoyance seeps into my veins but I push it away and pull my bag further up my arm. “Uh, did you want to go to the kitchen?” His eyes don’t meet mine as I stare at his downcast baby blues.

“Your room is fine,” I say, pushing past him and making my way up the stairs, turning down the hall and heading straight for Cas’s closed bedroom door.

“How do you know that’s my room?” Cas calls from behind me, his voice a little panicked and I can practically hear his thoughts running wild, contemplating the possibility of a video somewhere of him jerking off or something.

“You took too many pills, remember? I brought you up here.” I hear his relieved sigh as I push open the door and flip on the light. My nerves hum and my skin tingles as I turn to face Cas.

I don’t know why I insisted on coming here. _Of course, you know, idiot._ I know. Deep down I know why—of course I do—I just can’t admit it to myself.

Cas just stands in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other as he looks everywhere but at me, his eyes wide and lost as he fidgets.

“Uh, did you want something to drink?” His voice is too high, betraying his nerves and ruining his attempt to sound unfazed.

“Got any more of that whiskey?” My voice is rough—gravely—and my eyes burn into him when his breath hitches.

“I uh…I don’t think we should—”

“C’mon, Cas! Don’t be such a goody-goody.” His face hardens as he glares at me and heat burns low in my stomach as that rebellious spark lights in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just pivots on his heel and walks away.

I smirk, not really caring if he actually brings whiskey and not really expecting him to. I’m pleasantly surprised when he does, though, bringing a brand new bottle and not bothering with glasses.

He hands it to me as he opens a drawer of his desk and rifles through it, pulling out a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and sliding them up his nose while I crack the seal and take a few long pulls from the bottle to distract myself because _holy shit_ those glasses are a fucking turn-on.

Cas plops down on his desk chair and looks up at me with wide eyes. Yeah, that’s not going to work. His eyes look fucking _huge_. All pretty blue and doll-like. _Maybe it’s ‘cause he’s tiny like a chick? Maybe it’s the fucking girlishly long eyelashes and full lips. Maybe…_

I tear my eyes off Cas’s lips and take another swig from the bottle before shoving it into Cas’s hand, spilling a little on his jeans. He jumps but doesn’t say anything as he pulls his sleeve down and tries to wipe it away. He sets aside the bottle without taking a sip.

“Drink it, Cas.” My voice is deep and gravely. Rough from the burn of the alcohol.

“I shouldn’t…”

I take a step forward, grabbing the hair at the back of his head in one hand and taking the bottle in the other. He gasps, his mouth opening from the shock, giving me the opportunity to shove the bottle between his lips and pour. He struggles, spilling the whiskey down his chin as he shakes his head and pulls at my wrist but I don’t let up, tightening my grip on his hair until he winces and gives in, struggling to swallow the burning liquid in his mouth.

When I’m satisfied with the amount he actually managed to swallow, I pull the bottle away. He gasps, his eyes watering behind those thick black frame as he coughs and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

The alcohol rushing through my veins changes the image to one of my come running down his chin as he struggles to swallow it all, his eyes watering because I shoved so far down his throat that he gagged.

I listen to the sound of his labored breathing as I close the door, discreetly clicking the lock before turning to face him. He’s clutching his throat with one hand as his other rests on his forehead. He’s slumped forward, his shoulders curled inward as he stares, unseeing, at the floor.

“There…” I breathe and his eyes slowly move to meet mine. “That’ll make this a lot more fun.” I dig through my bag and pull out the essay draft I banged out this morning and stuffed in my bag before running out the door. I hand it to him and he just stares at it for a moment before fumbling for the red pen in the mug beside his laptop.

I watch him carefully as he struggles to focus on the words, his red pen writing sloppy notes along the margins. Eventually, the pen falls from his hand and rolls onto the floor. He bends over to pick it up but…well…he’s drunk.

I step forward awkwardly, bending to catch him but stumbling instead and we both hit the ground. I groan from the weight on my chest, opening my eyes only to be met with glassy, startled baby blues framed by crooked glasses and long, dark lashes. _So pretty…_

Before I can think too much about it, I roll Cas under me, pinning his arms above his head with one hand while running a finger down his cheek with the other. He just stares wide-eyed up at me, his mouth parted as soft, whiskey breaths puff against my lips.

“D-Dean.” Cas tugs against my hold, squirming beneath me. I groan from the friction against my crotch, unconsciously grinding against Cas and forcing a gasp from that pretty mouth.

The alarm leaves his eyes, replaced by shameful lust as his lids droop behind his glasses. His breaths come fast as he gazes into my eyes, no longer struggling against the hold I have on his wrists as the other one grips his chin and jaw, holding him steady as I lick across his bottom lip. He trembles beneath me with each swipe, his heels sliding against the floor as he tries to dig them in.

Every part of me is telling me this is wrong. _Cas is a dude!_ Every part except my dick, which is the one making all the decisions at this point. I bite down roughly on Cas’s bottom lip, sucking it into my mouth as a breathy gasp escapes him and he rolls his hips, his stiff cock grinding against mine.

I stand abruptly, not bothering to pull Cas up and dragging him, instead, across the floor by his wrists to his bed. His feet scramble for purchase but I don’t stop for him, knowing he’s too drunk to walk anyway as I move my other hand under his knees and toss him on the bed, watching as he bounces a few times before settling. I crawl over him, running my hands up his skinny thigh and over his hip, clasping his wrists in my hand again and tugging them over his head.

“Dean…” he whimpers as my free hand moves under his shirt. I moan, feeling every inch of hot skin under my palm, every nerve ending in my body singing. Heat pools low in my stomach as I gaze at those pretty eyes behind the crooked frames. I can’t hold back anymore and the alcohol soaking my brain doesn’t let me to come up with any reason why I should. My lips crash into his, forcing my tongue into his mouth and thrusting it in time with the grinding of my hips.

Cas lets out a muffled yelp from the force of my kiss but he gives it back after only a small hesitation, grinding against me as his lips move with mine. I pinch his nipple, ignoring the fact that it’s on a flat chest. _He’s pretty; so much like a girl_. I think this over and over, trying to convince myself that it’s true. I’m not gay. I can’t be gay—I like girls. _Just_ girls.

But Cas is just _so_ _pretty_.

 

**_December 1, 2018_ **

My alarm clock blares in time with my pounding head as I’m jolted from sleep. I slap my hand over my bedside table before eventually hitting the right button to quiet the shrill beeps. Every muscle in my body aches in a way that can only mean one thing. I shiver, only further confirming my suspicions.

I curl deeper into my bed as cold sweats soak my sheets. My stomach rolls and I groan, trying desperately to hold back whatever’s in my stomach. Yeah, that’s not happening.

Shoving myself out of bed, I stumble for the bathroom door while clasping a hand over my mouth. My head spins as I drop to my knees in front of the toilet and everything comes up, burning my throat as tears streak down my face. Thank God I’m not supposed to be working today.

My stomach settles a little and I slide to the floor, too weak to push myself up, and rest my cheek on the cool tile, shivering when the chill seeps through me. I curl up on my side, bringing my knees to my chest and holding them tight as shivers wrack my body.

I debate trying to get to my feet and making my way back to bed but the toilets in here and even the thought of standing makes my stomach turn.

Every wretched inch of my body aches as I lay on the hard floor, and I know I need to cool down but I’m _freezing_. Cold sweat soaks through my clothes, chilling me further.

My stomach jolts and I struggle to push myself up but I don’t make it to the toilet. The rancid smell permeates the air as I fall back to the floor, too weak and sore to care that I’m laying in a puddle of my own vomit.

I drift off to sleep on the cold tile.

 

I open my eyes and everything is sideways. White and bright and sideways. I didn’t know it was possible to feel worse but somehow I do—my throat feels like I’ve been swallowing shards of glass and my head pounds at migraine intensity. I’m shivering so hard that I don’t think I could manage to push myself up even if I wanted to.

Bubbles float through the air and one of my arms reaches limply for them, trying to grab them with my shaky fingers. My eyes are heavy but I try to force them open. Everything blurs in and out and my arm falls from around my knees. I go limp, every part of me pressing into the floor as if I weighed a thousand pounds.

My stomach heaves and then it’s wet. And smelly. I close my eyes to block the smell. Cover my ears to get rid of the taste. My hands touch it and I cringe. It hurts to move—to breath and cough and groan in pain. Everything _hurts_.

“ _Dean_?” My head pounds in response. “ _Dean? Are you ready to go_?” I swallow to wet my throat and it burns. “ _Dean! You said you’d pick me up thirty minutes ago_!” My head pounds again and I struggle to push myself up. My hand slips in the wetness. I let myself fall. The pounding continues. Footsteps. The voice gets louder. “ _What on earth is that smell? Dean!_ ”

I smile at the sound of the voice. Or grimace—I don’t know which. The bathroom door opens. A grasp. Hands all over my face.

“God, you're hot!” Cas’s hands press against my forehead.

“Thanks, handsome,” I mumble as my throat screams in protest.

“Shut up,” he snaps and I smile-grimace again. Cas’s cool fingers leave my face and now it’s just a grimace. I hear the sound of running water before Cas’s is back, winding his arms up under mine. I moan as I’m dragged across the floor, every muscle protesting the movement.

Icy water pounds down on my head and I hiss, struggling to disentangle myself from Cas but too weak to get too far.

“You’re burning up you idiot. Stay still,” Cas orders and I grumble but slump against the shower wall where Cas leaves me in my own personal version of hell. Fingers move through my hair and I lean into them, sliding down the wall until strong hands grab my shoulders.

“Don’t move!” Cas snaps, shoving me up again as his hands move back into my hair, massaging gently as I lean into him again. I guess Cas doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because this time I slide right down the wall and land on my side as frigid water sluices over my stomach. I hear Cas sigh.

After I’m clean, Cas leaves, coming back and drying me off with a towel before wrapping one of my arms around his shoulders while one of his cinches around my waist and pulls me up. We stumble out of the bathroom as knives drive through my skull and my body threatens to collapse. Cas is panting hard by the time he sits me on the edge of my bed, leaving me for a moment before coming back and quickly changing my t-shirt and boxers for a clean, dry pair.

I’m laid back on the pillows and a blanket soon covers my shivering body. I still feel like death but Cas’s presence brings me comfort. It’s like all my worries deflate with him here, his fingers smoothing the wet and knotted hair back from my eyes. I crack them open, getting just a glimpse of his worried baby blues before they fall shut against the light.

I grip Cas’s jean-clad thigh as tight as my weak fingers will allow, feeling him jerk slightly. “Thanks, Cas,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. I swallow as my hand falls away and something wet and cold and soft and soothing is pressed against my forehead.

Maybe a damp cloth but maybe Cas’s lips. I can’t be too sure because I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

 

_CASTIEL_

Dean mumbles softly in his sleep as I lean back and press a damp cloth to his burning forehead. Worry courses through me and I can’t help feeling bad for him. He looks so fragile and shame floods me for assuming the worst when he didn’t show up.

God, I was so mad. I waited for half an hour for him to show up. _Thirty minutes!_ So, I decided to come over to find out why he ditched me and maybe drop in on whatever he decided was better than showing me whatever memory he insisted on showing me yesterday.

I had plans today—plans that I had to cancel to see him—and _that’s_ what I was most upset about _._ Not because I was disappointed at being forgotten _again_ —left behind and not even important enough to warrant a phone call to cancel; once again not being Dean Winchester’s _first_ choice. It’s because I had _plans._

At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.

I feel so foolish now. I can still feel my heart drop when I picture him curled up on the bathroom floor in a pool of his own vomit, sweating and shivering like an addict crashing down from a high.

I should’ve known better. Dean is _different_ , but after what happened last Monday, we’ve back-peddled. We didn’t talk at all until he called me yesterday. If I were to be honest with myself, I’d admit that I wanted to see him. But I can’t be honest; not when being honest opens me up to all the pain that the past has to shove in my face. All that _pain_. I know it’s stupid. _I’m_ stupid. Making him remember is most definitely the worst possible thing I can do. I know that but I _need_ him to remember. I need him to _understand_. The problem, though, is that with every painful memory that he remembers, I do too. It’s going to rip me apart.

Yet, here I sit, and here I will keep sitting until he gets better or I fall apart.

I wipe a bead of sweat from his temple with the cloth, watching as the crease between his eyebrows deepens and his face turns towards my hand, jerking slightly. I run my fingers through his hair and he settles. I smile a tiny smile and pass the time by counting his freckles.

Every time I get to his nose, he moves his head and I have to start all over.

After a while, I get up to clean the bathroom and re-wet the cloth. I rest my hand on his forehead and my worry spikes at just how hot he is. He’s flushed bright red and dark circles rim his eyes. I try to think of the last time I saw him move but I can’t remember and I start to panic.

Rummaging through his medicine cabinet, I find a thermometer and take his temperature, my heart lurching when it reads 104°F. I whip of the blankets and pull his shirt over his head but he doesn’t stir. Shit. I run for the kitchen, grabbing all the ice from his freezer and filling plastic bags before running back to his room and placing them on all the pulse points on his body, trying to cool him down before his temperature causes organ damage.

Now I wait, taking his temperature every thirty seconds because I’m too worried and fidgety to be patient. My fingers move through his hair constantly—more to soothe myself than him—and it stands on end after a while.

I start to calm down when he temperature drops to around 100°F but he still has woken or moved. I lay down beside him, resting my head on the pillow before looking over him at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 10:53 pm. I can’t leave now. Moving my hand back to his hair, I run my fingers through the strands a few more times and let out a sigh of relief when his head turns towards me and he shifts a little. The ice melted a long time ago but the water is still cold so I leave it there.

My eyes close as calm washes over me and I start to question why I really came here. I was mad, sure, but mad enough to come and find him? Really? _Really?_ I’m starting to think maybe not. Yes, I thought the worst, but have I ever acted like that out of anger? I hold it in. I keep it to myself.

I know the truth, though. I _missed_ him. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. I _missed_ him. Shit. I’m in trouble. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him—I know that much is true—but _I missed him_.

I missed Dean Winchester.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there you go! There it is! Leave all the comments that your hearts desire! *Whispers* "Please?"
> 
> Anyway. I hope you like it and I'm almost done writing the next chapter so hopefully, I can post that by next week.


	8. Simple Pleasures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...so I don't have a life. You get this one early! Yay! 
> 
> This one's lighter than the others. Hope you like it!

**_October 14, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

Dean just shows up drunk now. We don’t ever really study anymore and instead, I end up pressed into my mattress by Dean’s hard body. I try— _so hard_ —not to read anything into it but…I don’t know. We don’t talk about it and Dean leaves when the two hours are up, leaving me hard and more than a little confused.

Today’s the day, I’ve decided, that we’re going to talk about it. I want to know exactly what is going through his head and at this point, I don’t care if he hits me for asking. Not knowing is worse.

The doorbell rings and I run down the stairs, sliding on the slick hardwood floors to the door on my socks a little too fast and hitting it with a thud. I stumble back, landing flat on my ass. Groaning, I push myself to my feet while rubbing my forehead and open the door.

Dean sways from side to side and he reeks of alcohol. I look behind him and see the Impala parked at an angle in the driveway. “How did coach not smell the booze on you?” I turn up my nose as he pushes past me and heads for the stairs, gripping tightly to the railing so he doesn’t topple over and break his neck.

I follow him up, picking up the jacket he discards in the hall. I don’t sneak a sniff. I don’t—I promise.

Dean spins around and I pull the jacket away from my face, tossing it on my desk chair and closing the door behind me. I’m pressed into the door by a large chest at my back as he flips the lock before moving his lips to my throat and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise.

I gasp, almost falling into him—almost—but I need to ask him. “Dean,” I whisper. He ignores me, placing his hands on my hips and pulling them back so my ass is pressed up tight against the bulge in his pants. I try again. “Dean,” I say, more forcefully this time and he spins me around, my eyes meeting his glazed ones.

He pulls something out of his back pocket and before I know what he’s doing, the mouth of a flask is at my lips and one of his big hands is holding my face, squeezing my cheeks to force my mouth open as he pours the burning liquid down my throat while I struggle against his iron hold. I choke, coughing as I try not to swallow but he just holds me like that until I have to swallow or suffocate. He puts the flask back in his pocket as I wipe the tears from my eyes.

“Dean, we need to talk,” I insist, moving out of reach of his grabby hands, moving my desk chair between us to block him. He takes a step towards me, tilting his head. I swallow hard and look at the floor. “Why are you doing this? I thought—I thought you were…you know—straight?”

His eyebrows furrow. “I am,” he says in a deep, gravely voice that holds a hint of a warning and sends heat shooting down my spine.

“Then why…?” I gesture at myself and the fact that I am, in fact, a guy.

He just shrugs. “We just going to stand here and talk or are you going to let me fuck you?” He takes a step forward and my heart leaps in my chest as my eyes widen in shock. Fuck me…? _What?_ He grabs the chair and rolls it away, stalking me into the corner and placing his hands on either side of my head, caging me in as he dips his head close to mine. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk properly for a few days,” he growls. My stomach flips and my pants tighten at his promise. I moan, my eyes glued to his lips as his tongue runs across them, wetting them so they glisten.

He tilts his head a little, lining up our lips and kissing me with far more tenderness than I’d expect from Dean Winchester of all people. I kiss him back hesitantly, not wanting to break the spell and have him move away. He kisses me a little deeper, his hands moving into my hair and tugging lightly, forcing a moan from my lips. My hands shoot up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer as I lean forward, opening my mouth to his tongue when it moves across my bottom lip.

Every nerve ending in my body sings as Dean’s hands run up and down my sides, moving under my shirt and pushing it up. He pulls away only long enough to get it over my head before his lips move to my neck, kissing and licking his way down as I squirm against the wall, craving friction against my aching dick.

He sucks on the spot between my shoulder and neck, leaving a bruise before nipping harshly at the skin. I mewl softly, pulling him closer. He moves his hands to my ass, gripping tightly as he pulls me into him, his hips working against mine to create the delicious friction I crave.

Dean grips the back of my thighs, lifting me up and forcing my legs around his waist as he carries me to the bed before dropping me onto the middle. I watch with lust filled eyes as he pulls his t-shirt off, revealing every inch of his muscled chest and abs. His arms flex as he pulls it over his head and I moan, my hips shifting at the sight.

I’m not pale by any means, born naturally more tan than most, but I don’t get much sun so I look pale next to Dean, who is constantly shirtless. For once, I’m grateful that he’s such an arrogant bastard; he’s so hot tanned like that.

“C’mere,” he says with a small grin, grabbing onto my belt buckle and dragging me to the edge of the bed. I sit there and watch in stunned silence as he unbuckles his belt and pushes his jeans to his knees. My mouth waters when I see the bulge in his boxers. Dean pushes his fingers through my hair and shoves me to my knees in front of him. I yelp when my knees hit the ground but Dean ignores me, focusing instead on pulling his cock out of his boxers with one hand and tilting my head back with the other.

My stomach flips when I see how big he is; there’s no way that’s going to fit… He pulls my head forward and holds himself steady, placing the head on my lips and running it back and forth. His grip on my hair tightens when my tongue flicks out to lick the pre-come off the tip.

“Open,” he orders and I do. My mouth isn’t wide enough though and I strain my jaw trying to fit him all in. He doesn’t go lightly either, thrusting hard and deep, gagging me on his shaft and my eyes water, tears falling and wetting my cheeks.

He slows suddenly, gesturing with his free hand towards mine. I lift it slowly, not sure what it is he wants from me before he takes it and wraps it around his base. His hand stays wrapped around mine as he shows me what to do.

“Don’t be afraid to squeeze it,” he coaches between panted breaths. “Tighter.” I squeeze a little tighter. “No, _tighter,_ Cas. Oh, fuck, yeah like that.” His head drops back and his eyes close as I hollow my cheeks the best I can and squeeze him the way he tells me. I use my free hand to rub myself through my jeans, moaning around him when I get just the right amount of friction.

That has Dean’s knees shaking and he pulls out of my mouth, a string of saliva stretching out. “That’s so fucking hot,” he breathes and pride swells in my chest. “On the bed. Hands and knees.” I do as I’m told as nerves flutter in my stomach, facing the head of the bed on my hands and knees as Dean strips out of the rest of his clothes before pulling my jeans and boxers down and off. I close my eyes, waiting patiently as I feel the bed dip. I look over my shoulder and watch as Dean spits on his fingers, spreading it around before he moves them to my tight hole. I groan at the first touch, expecting him to just shove his finger in and bracing for it, but he doesn’t. One hand rests on my hip as he gently massages my hole, coaxing me to relax with soft words.

“Shh, relax—don’t fight against it.” I take a deep breath and loosen my muscles as he presses one long finger in. I moan, squeezing my eyes shut and arching my back as the delicious burn builds and builds. He moves slow, massaging my insides as I get used to the sensation of his finger before he adds another one. The burning grows and I whimper, almost telling him to stop, but then he crooks his fingers, hitting something inside me that has me seeing stars. “You like that, Cas?” I moan in response and he does it again, stretching me out and adding a final finger. God, it’s so _full_. My muscles spasm around his fingers and I squeeze my eyes shut to push away the pain, my breaths coming in quick pants.

After a bit, Dean pulls his fingers out. “You clean?” He asks me and my lust filled brain doesn’t comprehend for a moment.

“What? Clean?”

“Yeah, like do you have an STD or whatever?” Dean looks incredibly awkward as he shifts his weight on the mattress.

“Um…no?” I’ve never been with anyone else so there’s no way I could have one, right?

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling?” He raises an annoyed eyebrow. I clear my throat. “Telling, I’m telling you.”

“Good. I got checked last week, by the way. Do you mind going without a condom?” I think about it for a moment before shaking my head.

“I don’t mind.” I turn back to face the wall, taking a deep, shuddering breath when I feel the head of Dean’s cock press against my prepped hole.

“I’ll go slow. Tell me if it hurts.” The softness in his voice knocks me off balance—it’s so unlike him. Then he starts pressing in and all thoughts of softness are gone. I cry out, closing my eyes and clenching my teeth as I bury my face in the pillow. He stops. “You good?” Dean’s panting, just barely holding back from slamming into me like I know he wants to. I can feel his muscles trembling with the effort.

“Don’t stop,” I grind out, biting down on the pillow to muffle the sounds that burst from my mouth. He goes glacier slow but eventually, his hips hit my ass cheeks and he stays there, holding my hips with both hands.

“Tell me when you’re ready.” His hands dig into my skin as I take a few steadying breaths, weirdly unafraid of angering him with the time I take to get used to the feeling of being stretched wide open. This isn’t like school—there’s no one to impress—it’s just him and I.

Dean’s hands run along my sides, soothing the tension enough that I feel myself nodding, giving my consent for him to move. He does, pulling slowly out, massaging my inner walls as I groan. Dean’s breaths grow harsh as he pushes back in. In and out, over and over, his thrusts getting harder and faster and hitting my prostate over and over, sending shivers up my spine and into my groin as the burning eases.

Sweat pours from me as Dean grips my hips, his thrusts getting so hard that my arms collapse and my face presses into the pillow. I grip the headboard as Dean reaches around me, grabbing my throbbing cock and jerky it once…twice. Then we’re both coming with a muffled cry, hot liquid filling my hole as Dean’s hips stutter, releasing inside me before he collapses onto my back, his softening dick still buried deep inside.

I startle when his lips press wet kisses over my neck and along my shoulder blades. He pulls out and I whimper—aching and overstimulated. Dean rolls off me, turning his head to face me and pushing my hair back from my eyes. He looks concerned, watching me closely.

“You good?” He asks, searching my face.

I smile softly, daring to move my hand across the space between us to lay on his chest. His skin is hot and smooth beneath my palm. It’s nice. “I’m great,” I whisper, and he lets me keep my hand on him for a minute before he takes it in his, holding it between us.

“So…you wear glasses?” Dean raises an eyebrow and smirks as my face falls and I try to pull away. “Hey! Calm down—it’s cute.” His eyes scan my face as I wait for him to say something biting and hurtful. “It’s fucking hot, actually.”

I’m so stunned by his words that a laugh bubbles up in my throat. I slap my free hand over my mouth, expecting Dean to be mad that I laughed at him. He’s not—he just chuckles along with me.

I stare wide-eyed as he laughs, his face transforming into something I’ve never seen before. Something beautiful.

My heart skips a beat. Once. Twice.

 

**_December 3, 2018_ **

_CASTIEL_

Dean gets steadily better over the weekend and into Monday. His fever goes down to a manageable level and his muscle soreness gets better. I know he’ll be fine if I leave him but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Every time I stand up to go, I remember that he needs a new glass of water or some pain medication and I never end up actually on the other side of his front door. I war with myself constantly, knowing that every minute I’m with _this_ Dean, the old Dean becomes less and less prominent in my mind. I forget what _that_ man has done to me and focus more and more on what _this_ man has done _for_ me.

I’m a mess.

I woke up last night to Dean’s phone ringing off the hook. Sam had been calling for probably twenty minutes straight. I answered only to give him peace of mind, telling him that Dean had the flu and I was taking care of him.

Then Sam wanted to come over and it took me another thirty minutes to convince him not to. Then I called Dean’s station and told the secretary that he would be taking some sick days, too. Who knew taking care of Dean Winchester would be so much work.

And! _And!_ Dean Winchester is the worlds biggest baby when he’s sick. Honestly, he could have been dying by the way he was carrying on. Who knew?

I look down at him, curled on his side with the blankets piled at the foot of the bed. His eyes move beneath his eyelids as he dreams and a light flush reddens his cheeks. _He’ll be fine._ I tell myself. _He’s a grown man; he’ll be fine._ I grab my jacket from the floor and fold it over my arm. I have things to do today; I need to leave.

My eyes scan over him as I stand in the doorway. _Okay, Castiel, turn around. On three._

One.

I back out the door.

Two.

I close it behind me.

Three.

I turn down the hall.

Okay. Okay, I can do this. I take a deep breath and move quickly with purposeful steps to the front door. I stop. Stand there for a minute with my hand on the doorknob. _What if he gets worse while I’m gone? What if he needs something?_

Shaking my head, I open the door and step out. He’ll be _fine!_ I have to meet a potential employee for an interview in half an hour. Dean will be fine for _half an hour_.

I meet with Alfie—who seems like a nice enough kid and a good worker— and finalize some orders before checking on Hannah. I smile as I look at the flower-filled space, feeling pride swell in my chest. _I_ made this. All by myself. _Finally_. It might not be my biggest dream, or what I _really_ wanted to do with my life, but it’s still good. It still makes me happy.

Even the chime of the bell over the door as I leave brings me a small twinge of satisfaction. _Maybe I’ll buy myself a car_. I smile at the thought as I step onto the bus, heading for Dean’ s house.

I’m sitting near the back, reading a worn novel when I hear my name in a thick British accent. “Castiel? Castiel Novak, is that you?”

My eyes snap up to meet with a familiar pair of blue eyes. “Balthazar, how are you?” I smile warily at my old friend as he sits next to me and wraps me in a side hug which I don’t return. They’re uncomfortable but I deal with it because he was once one of my only friends.

“Brilliant! I’m absolutely brilliant! When did you return to Lawrence?” His arm still rests on my shoulders and I slouch forward. He just leans in closer, and I catch the faint smell of alcohol on his breath.

“A month ago, I guess,” I say as I lean away from him, trying to get him to sit back but failing as he leans closer.

“That’s wonderful! We should grab a drink! Catch up, you know.” I think about how much I _really_ don’t want to do that. I think about Dean.

“I shouldn’t… I need to get back—”

“Get back where? Your lonely home? Come on, just one drink?” Finally, mercifully, he moves back and I sigh a breath of relief.

“I’m taking care of a…friend. He’s sick—”

“He’s a grown man, is he not? He can care for himself for the span of one drink, one would think.” Balthazar sways in his chair as his glazed eyes try to focus on mine. His rumpled clothes tell me he probably hasn’t made it home yet and the scent of perfume on him tells me whatever home he _did_ make it too, wasn’t his.

_One drink. What harm could it do?_

 

_DEAN_

My head pounds something awful as the bedroom light sears my retinas. I groan, my throat stinging—dry as the Sahara desert. I glance around my room but it’s empty—no Cas. Something falls inside me, breaking the fragile hope that bloomed with his careful attention. Everything is raw inside me and my throat thickens with emotion.

I try to get up to turn off the light and every muscle in my body screams in protest as I hit the floor. Too weak to push myself up, I stay there, flooded with too many emotions and too much pain to do anything but let the tears of frustration run down my cheeks.

“Cas?” I croak, hoping he’s just not in the room—knowing he’s not. “ _Cas?_ ” I try again, a little louder.

I lay my cheek on the cold hardwood floor. _Cas?_

 

The first thing I notice when I wake is I’m not in my bed. I take stock of my body, noticing that the ache in my muscles is different; more from the fact that I slept on the floor than from the flu. My head only pounds in the way I’m accustomed to, and I’m not nearly as weak as I was yesterday.

Shooting up to a sitting position, I search for Cas, but he’s not here. _Right_. He left sometime yesterday. Not even a goodbye. The clock says it’s half past seven and my ears perk up when I hear noise coming from the kitchen. Pans…the fridge door…humming?

I frown, pursing my lips and tilting my head to the side as I listen. Slowly, I get out off the floor, grabbing the closest thing to me—which happens to be a lamp—and stealthily walking out of the room with it held high above my head. There’s no way that’s Cas—Cas never came back—someone must have broken in.

I reach the doorway to the kitchen, holding my breath as I listen before counting down from three.

Three…two…one.

I leap into the doorway, bending my knees and holding the lamp in both hands high above my head as I yell. “Ha- _ha!_ ”

Three things happen in quick succession after that.

One, Cas jumps about three feet in the air. Two, a pancake is launched clear across the kitchen, hitting the wall to my right and opposite the stove where Cas is cooking. Three, I realize I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Cas turns slowly, an unimpressed look on his face as he raises an eyebrow. “Care to explain?” He waves the frying pan at me from the other side of the island, looking severely annoyed.

“I thought you were a burglar,” I say, setting the lamp down on the island and smiling sheepishly at him.

“A burglar,” he deadpans, setting the frying pan down with a clang. “A…burglar. Yeah, that sounds reasonable. Just going to come in to steal your pancakes.”

“Cas—”

“But no! Not just _steal_ them! A burglar that makes them _right in your kitchen_ before eating them in your home!” He stalks over to the wall where the pancake hit, bending down to retrieve it before walking over to the garbage can. He stomps on the foot pedal, hurling the pancake in when it opens before turning to face me with an unreadable expression on his face. He’s slow as he advances, his eyes running over my body, which I realize is only sporting a pair of Kermit boxers. He’s so close now that I can feel his breath on my lips, heat radiates off him and I’m frozen to the spot. We stand there, silent for a minute or so before he speaks. “Can you please not make so much noise? My head hurts.”

My head shoots back on my neck in utter shock. _Is he hungover?_ A grin splits his face as I realize _he is_. For a moment, I’m too stunned to react, then a laugh bursts from my chest as Cas cringes and covers his ears.

He moves away and grabs a mug from the counter, taking a small sip before wincing when it burns his tongue.

“Long night?” I ask with a smug grin, trying not to feel too bitter about the fact that he decided to spend his time getting drunk instead of taking care of me. _Jesus, he’s not my fucking keeper._ I shake my head at myself before heading for the coffee maker and pouring myself a mug. I lean back against the counter and watch Cas as he cooks, humming softly as he flips the pancakes. “What is that?” He looks at me over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “You’re humming. What’s the song?”

His smile widens as he turns back to the stove. “I heard it on the radio. I don’t know the name.” Setting down my coffee, I walk up behind him and watch over his shoulder as he cooks, already feeling the weight on my chest lifting just from him being here.

“Where’d you get off to yesterday?” I ask, trying to make my voice light, but failing miserably. Cas is silent for a while and I start to think he’s not going to answer me. Then he sighs and turns to face me, leaning back against the counter as I watch him closely.

“I had things to do,” he says simply, shrugging and turning back around, pulling a pancake from the pan and flopping it on top of the stack before holding it up for me to take. I eye him suspiciously but don’t push it. For now. “For you,” he says as I take it from his hands and make my way around the island and into the dining room, Cas following close behind with his own plate.

“Thanks, Cas,” I say when he sits beside me, handing me two pain pills before throwing back two of his own. I start stuffing the food into my mouth like I haven’t eaten in months. It feels that way anyway—I’m _starving_. “So…who’d you get drunk with?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “None of your business,” he snaps, not looking at me. My eyebrows into my hairline and I’m so stunned that I turn back to my food, not mentioning it again.

We eat in relative silence, sneaking side glances at each other when we think the other isn’t looking—occasionally our eyes meet and we both glance away, pretending it didn’t happen.

When we’re done eating, I load the dishwasher and start it before going in search of Cas, taking my useless weapon with me. I find him in my room, going through my closet and pulling down an old knit sweater that I’ve never worn, holding it in front of his chest and looking at me questioningly. “Would you mind if I borrowed this?” I nod, watching from the edge of the bed as he peels his dirty shirt off and pulls the sweater on over top, the bright red stripes standing out against the yellow.

“So, what are we doing today?” I ask, watching as he looks at himself in the mirror and adjusts the sweater before turning to face me and holding out his arms. God, I never thought that ugly ass sweater could be so fucking hot. I give him a thumbs up before grabbing some clothes for myself and heading to the bathroom, leaving the door open while I change so we can still speak.

“I have no plans,” I hear him say, a little distracted.

“I need to grocery shop, you up for that?” Cas jumps when I poke my head out the door while pulling a t-shirt on over my head. He flushes bright red and looks away. Hmm…still so shy? A small part of me soars, knowing I can turn him into a blushing virgin just by taking my shirt off.

“Um…yes. That would be fine.”

We’re out of the house and driving to his store not long after that. “Maybe we should grocery shop for you too while we’re out,” I say, grinning over at him when he snorts.

“Or maybe I could just come over and eat all your food, instead.” I roll my eyes but that’s actually not a bad idea.

“All right.” I shrug, glancing over at his confused face and clamping my mouth shut to hold back my laughter at his stunned expression. “I’m kidding!” I laugh, throwing my head back before refocussing on the road. I see him roll his eyes from the corner of my eye.

I drive to the other side of town and pull into a Walmart, parking near the back. Getting out, I glance up at Cas and notice the look on his face. “What?”

“So we’re walking a marathon to the store? A pilgrimage might be more accurate, in fact,” Cas huffs and I roll my eyes.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” He doesn’t respond but purses his lips. We grab a cart, and Cas hops on the end, holding on as I push him through the store. His face is emotionless—almost bored—as he gazes around and I can’t help but smile at how ridiculous he looks. He raises an eyebrow at me when he notices my grin.

“Is there something you would like to say, Dean Winchester?” He doesn’t smile, his face remaining impassive except for that raised eyebrow.

“Not at all,” I smirk, grabbing a loaf of bread and ignoring the eyes trained on the grown-ass man riding like a child on the cart.

He just looks away from me as we move into the produce section. I grab a bag of grapes, faltering as Cas reaches down and picks up an apple, rubbing it on his coat before taking a bite, chewing slowly as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do.

“Cas!” I hiss, looking around and noticing the eyes on us.

“What?” His genuine confusion shines in his wide blue eyes as he takes another bite, tilting his head in confusion at the shock on my face.

“You can’t just pick things up and eat them! You have to _pay_ first!” I say in a loud whisper but he just grins around the apple.

“I did this all the time as a kid. It’s fine,” he assures me.

“Yeah, and how many grocery stores are you banned from?” I raise my eyebrows at him and purse my lips, tilting my head in question. I watch as his grin turns to a frown, then a pout. He mutters something under his breath, too low for me to hear. “What was that?” He does it again, though a little louder this time. “I can’t hear you. Speak up.” I lean in closer to him as I push the cart down the dairy section.

“Four, okay! I’m banned from every Walmart in the state so quiet down before they kick us both out!” Cas hisses the last part, his eyes shooting around as if someone would jump out at any moment and make us leave.

I throw my head back as my shoulder shake with the force of my laughter, tears spilling down my cheeks. Cas just glares at me as I try to pull myself together, wiping my eyes and sucking in deep breaths. “Seriously?” He shoots me a bitch face to rival Sammy’s and I lose it again, pausing in the aisle for a few minutes as I try to get control of myself again. “Man, you must’ve been a nightmare to shop with as a child.”

“My mom never let us come in. Just left us in the car.” He grabs some milk off the shelf and sets it in the cart before finishing his apple and setting the core in the bottom.

“Seriously? Even in the summer?” That must’ve been hell. I’m surprised they didn’t all roast.

“Even in the summer. The police were called a few times to break us out.” He shrugs as we walk through the frozen goods section, eyeing the ice-cream as we roll past.

I pause when I see Cas’s eyes light up at a particular kind, opening the door and grabbing the carton without a word.

“Wait…so they had to break you out _more than once?_ And she still kept doing it?” I scowl at the thought.

Cas nods absentmindedly as he smiles at the ice-cream. “Mhm…it was worse when they didn’t show up.” He shrugs again but otherwise, he doesn’t seem bothered. I can’t imagine how horrible that would’ve been for him—how horrible a lot of things must’ve been for him. Guilt creeps in at the reminder that I was the cause of a lot of those horrible things.

Cas hops in the cart and kicks his feet up on the handle, crossing them at the ankle and smiling widely. “Wipe that look off your face, Dean Winchester.”

I sigh, forcing a smile that quickly turns genuine as Cas cracks open the ice cream before frowning when he realizes he doesn’t have a spoon. My hands move before I know what I’m doing, grabbing a mixing spoon off a hanger and passing it over to him as a smile lights up his face.

“You are something else,” I smirk before continuing down the aisle. Cas grins as I quicken the pace, moving steadily faster down the long aisle until I'm moving at a run.

I jump up, letting the cart roll down the lane as he laughs, holding one arm out as the other clutches the carton of ice cream in his lap. I jump down, slowing the cart before we ram into the meat counter.

“You’re crazy, Castiel Novak!” I pant, matching his wide grin as he shoves another spoonful into his mouth.

“Says the guy who came at me with a lamp in Kermit boxers this morning.” I roll my eyes but don’t argue. We’re both a little crazy, I guess. “I’m taking you out tomorrow by the way.” I raise an eyebrow at that but Cas just ignores me.

“Where?”

“Secret.”

“C’mon Cas, where.”

“It’s a surprise!” Cas laughs and shakes his head, grabbing some peanut butter and jam off a shelf before deciding he wants chunky instead of smooth and exchanging them.

“Is it…a bar?” He doesn’t react and I huff. “Okay, not a bar. A club? No, never mind. A movie?” Cas just focuses on all the different kinds of spices in front of him, looking overwhelmed as he completely ignores me. I sigh, giving up on the guessing game. For now.

I watch Cas as he murmurs something under his breath and I take a step closer to make out the words. “French toast…french toast…” A laugh bursts out as I roll my eyes, reaching past him and grabbing the cinnamon off the shelf.

“Cinnamon,” I say, holding it out to him and laughing at his grin as he takes it from my hands.

“Whatever would I do without you?” He says sarcastically as he sets it down beside him in the bottom of the cart as we continue down the aisle.

“Starve, probably,” I say and he smacks me with the spoon. I chuckle, rubbing my hand and licking off the melted ice cream before wheeling Cas back to the front to check out. We pay for our groceries separately and Cas gets a glare for the apple core and the ice cream before he climbs out of the cart and we head back to the car with our bags in hand.

I’m panting by the time we reach Baby, thankful for the chilly fall air cooling my heated skin. “I bet you’re wishing you parked closer now,” Cas grumbles, setting his bags in the trunk before climbing into the passenger’s seat. I ignore him and roll my eyes to myself. What’s a little bit of walking if I can avoid door dings?

We drive back to Cas’s apartment and unload his groceries before heading back to my place to unload mine.

We’re almost to my house when that familiar feeling of a lost memory tickles in the back of my mind. I frown, trying to focus on the memory but I can’t lock it down. I stop at a stop sign and look over at Cas and it hits me all at once.

_“Get in, Cas.” He just stares at me but doesn’t move…“C’mon, you can’t walk home like this.”_

_“I thought you said not to get used to this.”_

_“Let’s say it ends when the day does. I feel like shit for almost drowning you.”_

_“Ah, so this is to clear your own conscience. Didn’t think you had one.”_

_“Careful what you say while you’re in_ my _car.”_

_“I didn't ask to be here.”_

_“Whatever pain meds they gave you are making you pretty damn brave. Or stupid.”_

The memory forces its way in and once it’s there, I can’t stop it. Can’t shut it down or think of anything else. _I feel like shit for almost drowning you._ Every breath wheezes out of me as I rest my head on the steering wheel, struggling to make sense of the images racing through my head.

_Almost drowning you._

Sounds are muffled—like I’m in a glass box and everything is far away. I try to refocus but those words play over and over in my mind as my heart races, pulse thundering in my ears as Cas’s voice calls to me from the other side of the box.

Distantly, I hear the sound of a horn blaring but I don’t move. I can’t. I’m frozen in the reality of what I did to Cas.

_Almost drowning you._

What did I do? You don’t just feel bad for almost drowning someone if you meant to do it. Can Cas swim? Was he unconscious?

I turn my head to look at Cas—his wide, frightened blue eyes make me flinch. Just like the memory…except…except this time it’s not fear _of_ me, but fear _for_ me.

What did I _do?_


	9. All Mixed Up Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Finally! Sorry about the long long wait for this! Like I said before, I don't have internet most of the time so I might only be able to post a chapter every two weeks or so.
> 
> I love your comments so keep them coming!

**_October 21, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

“ _Dean!_ ” Cas says and my eyes snap up to meet his. So blue…I feel my cheeks—and other parts—heat up as my stomach does somersaults. I quickly look away while sitting back in my seat, leaning away from the table so the chair balances on its two back legs.

We’re at Cas’s kitchen table since he has decided I’m temporarily banned from his bedroom until I finish this stupid fucking essay. My eyes roll up to the ceiling as I think about all the things I want to do to Cas in his bedroom…I bite my lip and close my eyes as a low moan escapes me.

“Dean! Stop that!” I grunt when a tiny foot jabs me in the shin and the chair teeters on its back legs. My arms flail but there’s not much I can do in my state of…well…intoxication. Yeah, I’m drunk, get over it.

I land with a thud on the floor, groaning for a whole other reason when my head hits the tile. Cas is above me in seconds, those sky blue eyes wide with worry. Fear, too. There’s definitely fear.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…I—I just—” His eyes shift frantically around the room as he backs away from me. I close my eyes and rub my forehead with a sigh.

“It’s fine, Cas. Calm down.” Pushing myself up takes more effort than I’ll ever admit to and I stumble to the side when I actually manage to get to my feet. Cas still stands awkwardly a few feet away, shifting from foot to foot while wringing his hands in front of him. I bend over to pick up the chair and my head spins. “Go sit down,” I say as I wave a hand at him, watching as he flinches from the corner of my eye. He sits, though, and I try my best to focus after that.

“Okay…” He takes a deep, steadying breath as he pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes that fucking red pen from the table. “This is getting a little better, but you need stronger evidence to support your second point. You’re making it too easy to argue against, so try to find textual evidence to support your claim.”

I stare at him blankly, hearing the words he’s saying but not really comprehending. “What?” He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Use better quotes,” he snaps, flipping the page in a huff. I try to fight the grin that’s taking over my face but I can’t, and it stretches out until my cheeks ache.

I hate this—feeling all these feelings about Cas—but I love it, too. I love how he gets all frustrated and grumpy with me. I’d never admit that to anyone—not even Cas. Not even really to myself—but I like Cas. He’s interesting.

“Don’t smile at me like that.” He scowls and looks back at my essay. My grin only widens as I tilt my head to the side, suddenly bursting with curiosity.

“Why not?” I reach for the red pen in his hand and he lets me take it. I flick the end of his nose and watch as his face scrunches up. He snatches it back and I let him.

“I’m not answering that question,” he murmurs, refusing to meet my eyes as he pretends to read over my essay again.

“C’mon Cas! Why can’t I smile at you?” His face crumples a little bit as he rereads the same paragraph over and over. His eyebrows furrow as a frown pulls down the corners of his lips. “Cas?” His bottom lip trembles. Tears well in his eyes. He stands suddenly, turning his back to me and opening the fridge, staring at the shelves without looking at the food. I stand too, walking around the table to stand beside him. His shoulders jerk slightly with every breath. I don’t know what to do. _I don’t know what to do_. “Cas—”

“Because it’s all a lie!” The words burst from him in a rush of air, jerked from his lungs and ripped from his chest. Hard enough to knock me back a step. “You _bully_ me.” The words come out in a ragged whisper as he holds the fridge door open, the cool air brushing my exposed skin. “Am I really supposed to believe that’s over? That you have finally decided to treat me like I’m a human being?” He closes the door and I stand there, hearing but not really listening. “You can’t look at me like that; it gives me hope. Hope that things have changed and…and you won’t—won’t…” His voice trails off when it starts to shake and something inside me dies a little.

So much pain. That’s all I hear. Pain. I close my eyes to block it out, reaching out a hand to rest on his back. Between his shoulder blades. He shudders but doesn’t move away and I open my eyes as my fingers lightly graze the ridiculous knit sweater he’s wearing. A smile tugs at my lips because it's just so _Cas_. Bumblebees to match his socks.

I don’t even notice that he’s turned to face me until he sighs. “You’re not even listening to me.” It’s that look on his face. Exhaustion—a surrender to all the shit that’s been handed to him. He’s tired of it and he’s giving up. It’s that look that wipes the smile off my face.

I search his eyes and it’s all I see. He’s giving up and panic swells inside me. _He can’t—I need him._ I do the only thing I can think of—the only thing I’ve been thinking of since I walked through his front door. I kiss him. Grab his face and pull him in and kiss him like my life depends on it. Like _his_ life depends on it because it might and that scares me more than anything.

The thought of losing Cas—never seeing him again…I can’t. I can’t think about that because I’m too drunk and too scared and too _weak_.

So I kiss him and I kiss him and I kiss him until his tears wet my fingers and his fists ball up the front of my shirt. My mouth moving over his and his over mine is all that matters at this moment. It’s nothing. It’s everything. It’s…It’s—

I’m startled by a buzzing in my pocket and I pull away from Cas, momentarily satisfied by the blissed out look on his face, replacing the existential exhaustion.

I look at the screen and answer immediately. “Heya, Sammy,” I say with a smile, waiting for the inevitable, _It’s Sam, not Sammy_ , but I’m met with silence. The smile drops from my face.

“Umm…is this Dean?” I bristle at the sound of a voice that most definitely isn’t Sam’s.

“Who the hell are you and where’s my brother?” I growl, low and menacing. I see Cas shrink away.

“I—uh…Sam’s here—”

“Put him on!”

There’s another pause at the other end and I can hear other voices in the silence. “Yeah…that’s the thing—Sam is…well—he’s overdosing.” Those words, said in such a calm, uncaring tone, make my heart drop to the floor. I stand there in Cas’s kitchen as he watches me warily but I don’t move. I can’t. I’m frozen in place from shock and fear—no, absolute _terror_ —and there’s nothing I can do about it. My wide eyes move to Cas and he sees it on my face. In my eyes. I know he does because seconds later my phone’s not in my hand anymore and my arm drops limply to my side.

I can hear Cas’s voice—stronger and surer and more forceful than I’ve ever heard from him. He’s asking for the address; yelling when they don’t give it to him at first. I’m grateful—so grateful that he’s here—that he knows what to do and how to act. _I’d be pretty fucking lost without you_.

Then he hangs up my phone before making another call—presumably for an ambulance to pick up Sammy—before slipping it in his pocket and looking back at me. “Where are your keys?” This snaps me out of it. I glare at him but he doesn’t back down, holding his hand out expectantly.

“No one drives my car,” I growl, giving him my most menacing look but he only shrinks back a little; not backing down or moving his hand away.

“You’re drunk, Dean. You’re not driving yourself if you want to make it to the hospital in one piece and without a drunk driving charge.

I glare harder, my stare turning icy before I finally give in, reaching into my back pocket and taking out my keys. He goes to reach for them and I momentarily hold them out of reach. “She’s my baby; don’t hurt her.” Cas just nods before taking the keys and leading me outside.

The drive is short but so fucking long. Cas is more than careful and I silently thank him for that. I’m already worried enough andI don’t need to worry about Cas wrapping my car around a tree on top of everything else. I don’t wait for Cas to put the car in park before opening the door, vaguely hearing his objection but I don’t care.

My head spins as I try to decipher left from right. Up from down. Everything is upside down as my heart pounds in my chest and adrenaline pumps through my veins. I’m going to be sick. _Shit_.

I double over and throw up, coughing and spitting as Cas stands beside me and waits. I brace myself with one hand on baby and the other on my stomach as my breaths wheeze out of me. I close my eyes.

“Come on,” Cas says, his voice _so_ gentle. I stand, taking a shaky breath, and Cas leads me to the emergency entrance. He points to a seat and I sit, my eyes following him across the room to the nurse's station.

I can’t stay still. My mind races and my heart pounds against my ribs. Everything inside me feels like it’s moving so fast while the world moves in slow motion. I push myself to my feet, pacing back and forth as my hands shake. I try not to stumble but it’s almost impossible.

Cas comes back and I stop pacing long enough to hear what he has to say. “He’s fine.” Every part of me sags in relief and I have to brace myself against the wall so I don’t crumble to the floor. “They got to him in time and they pumped his stomach. He’ll be fine.” I look up at him, hearing something else in his voice. It’s on his face too.

“What? What else?” He hesitates, shifting from foot to foot as he wrings his hands. His glasses are still on and they slide down his nose. He pushes them back up. “Cas!” He flinches but I can’t bring myself to apologize.

When he speaks, his voice trembles. “They…um—” He swallows hard and closes his eyes. “They’re…they’re—”

“Jesus Christ! Spit it out already!” He takes a few stumbling steps back when I step closer and that part of me—the one that feels something for Cas—feels guilty.

“They’re calling Child Protective Services,” he says in a rush, forcing the words past his lips. For a moment, I don’t think I’ve heard him correctly. A social worker? No. They can’t. They’ll take Sammy away and put him in some crappy home and I’ll never see him again.

“No. No, no, no. They can’t! Cas, they _can’t!_ ” I search frantically for my phone but it’s not in my pockets. “Where’s my fucking phone!” I shout, turning the heads of the people in the waiting room.

Cas reaches into his back pocket and holds it up to me. I snatch it from his hand and call Bobby, fighting back tears as I tell him. _I’m on my way. Calm down, kid. Is Sam okay?_

I’m no calmer after hanging up but a nurse comes out of the double doors on the other side of the waiting room. I vaguely recognize her but I don’t know where from.

“For Sam Winchester?” My heart leaps and I hurry over as fast as my drunk legs will carry me.

I only make it about two steps before someone grabs my arm. I snatch it away and glare at Cas. “Dean—”

“Why are you even still here? Get out of here,” I snarl with so much venom that tears well in those blue blue eyes. My throat burns but I turn away before he breaks me. And he _will_ break me. Everything good always does.

 

**_December 4, 2018_ **

_CASTIEL_

“Are you all right?” Dean doesn’t respond. We’re now sitting in his driveway, but he makes no move to get out of the car. He’s staring blankly ahead, his arms at his sides and an unreadable expression on his face. “Dean?” I reach out and place my hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move away but he doesn’t react either—just letting me clasp his shoulder.

His jaw muscles work beneath the skin, giving away the tension in his body and mind. Every muscle is strung tight—so tight that he starts to tremble almost indiscernibly. Dread sinks into my stomach as I wait for him to come back to me.

It’s a long time before he finally moves but it’s not to face me. Instead, he opens his door and gets out, letting my hand slide down his arm. I’m left alone in his car, watching as he unloads his groceries from the trunk and heads for the front door, not looking back to see if I’m following.

I get out, watching the closed door to see if he reemerges but I stand there for over a minute before the feeling of eyes watching me from the windows of other homes becomes too much and I grab the rest of the groceries from the trunk and head for the front door.

I just stand in the entryway for a moment, staring at the bags at my feet. I gently set down the ones in my hands before looking around the entryway. Deans jacket is thrown haphazardly on the floor and his shoes are scattered in the hall. I pick them up, setting them neatly on the mat before hanging up his jacket.

My mind whirls. Did I do something wrong? Say something wrong? I can’t decide whether or not to find Dean and make him tell me or to just put away his groceries and leave.

My head tells me the latter option is the best—the safest. It tells me to run and forget about Dean and to just… _protect_. Protect myself. Protect my heart.

As soon as I think it, though, I know I can’t. That would be running from the problem and I’ve vowed to myself that I’m not going to run anymore. I’ve been running my whole life—I’m tired.

A spark of anger lights in my chest and I storm down the hall, knowing exactly where to find Dean. Flinging his bedroom door open without knocking, I immediately regret it—or applaud myself; I haven’t figured out which yet—when Dean jumps, covering his crotch with both hands.

“What the hell, Cas?” Dean shouts from beside his bed, reaching with on hand for the boxers on the edge of his bed with one hand while the other holds firmly over himself. And I just stand there, wide-eyed and frozen in place because Dean is…well—Dean is beautiful.

My cheeks burn and I know they must be about the same color as the firetruck Dean drives for work, but I can’t look away. I should, but I can’t.

Dean has stopped moving, too. His hands—and boxers—still cover…down there, but he doesn’t make a move to put them on. My stomach squirms with butterflies as heat pools in my groin. _I shouldn’t be in here_. Even as the thought crosses my mind, I know it doesn’t matter. Even if I wanted to move, I can’t. He’s done so much to hurt me; why should this be any different?

But he’s done so much to heal me since; why would this be any different?

Dean’s mouth opens and his heavy-lidded eyes shine with lust. Lust and…and sorrow. He closes his mouth. Licks his lips. Open’s it again.

“Cas—”

“Honey! I’m home! What the—Dean why are your groceries in front of your door?” Dean jerks away, his wide eyes meeting mine for a moment before we hear footsteps coming down the hall. “Have you even gotten that fine ass out of bed yet—oh!” Jo’s eyes widen when she looks in the open door, her shock evident on her face. Then she starts to giggle. “I guess that’s a _no_ ,” she winks at Dean over my shoulder before he hurls whatever he can get his hands on—which happen to be his boxers—at her head, missing her completely as she darts out of the way and hitting me square in the face. I jerk back from the shock, hitting the wall behind me as my cheeks burn even hotter. When I pull his boxers off my face with a raised eyebrow and displeased frown, Dean’s eyes are wide with amusement and he struggles to keep the grin off his face.

I roll my eyes and toss his boxers back to him before turning away and trying not to act like every part of my body is on fire.

I leave the room, not waiting for Dean to follow behind me or throw another item of clothing at me.

Jo is putting away the groceries when I walk into the kitchen and she raises an eyebrow at Dean when she sees him following behind me.

“What?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Half dressed? Really?” I look at Dean and blush when I notice his belt is undone and his shirt is hanging open, looking away as he quickly buckles it and does up his shirt, grumbling under his breath while Jo chuckles.

“What’s up, Jo? Charlie driving you nuts?” Dean smirks as he helps Jo with the groceries.

“Always,” she says with a wink in my direction. I grin. “What time will you be heading out?”

Dean and I look at each other in total confusion before looking back at Jo. She looks at Dean expectantly when he doesn’t answer, and, realizing he has no idea what she’s talking about, she gives him a bitch face to end all bitch faces.

“You’re not serious.” She looks to me and I shrug. “Don’t tell me you forgot _again!_ This thing has been postponed _twice_ already! Thanksgiving dinner? Potluck?” Dean’s face betrays his guilt and I refuse to meet Jo’s eyes, which she rolls in exasperation at both of us. I don’t know why I feel guilty; it’s not like Dean even invited me—and I definitely shouldn’t feel as bitter about that as I do.

“Sorry?” Dean says, actually managing to look a little bit apologetic.

Jo sighs and puts the last of the groceries away. “Seven at Bobby’s. I was sent over to make sure you didn’t bail again. Guess it was a good thing I came.”

“Shit!” Dean starts rushing around the kitchen, looking through cupboards and digging through the fridge.

“Hey! I just put everything away!” Jo whines as Dean takes everything off the shelves and sets them on the counter.

“It’s my fucking kitchen,” he murmurs as Jo stands there, put out from all her hard work being taken apart. I shift awkwardly off to the side, wringing my hands in front of me as I try to find an excuse to leave. I wasn’t invited. Not that I can go anyway, but still. Dean doesn’t want me there and I can’t blame him; not after my brilliant performance at the last family gathering.

“I, um…I should get going,” I mumble, pointing my thumb over my shoulder as I back out, tripping on the garbage can and almost falling on my ass. My cheeks heat as Dean’s head snaps in my direction.

“What? You’re not coming?” His wide green eyes pierce through me as disappointment washes over his features.

He wants me there? _Really_? “I…uh—I can’t. I have an appointment.” _Please don’t ask_.

“Where?” The word seems to slip out without his consent because his face scrunches up immediately.

“It’s nothing.” I take out my phone, pretending to check the time even though I know my appointment’s not for another hour or so. “I have to go.” I pivot on my heel, hurrying out of the kitchen while digging through my pockets for bus fare. Empty.

“Wait! At least let me give you a ride.”

“No!” My heart jumps just at the thought of Dean knowing where I’m going. He can’t know. He can _never_ know. I swallow back my nerves and clear my throat when I see the startled look on his face. “No, it’s fine. It’s not far.” Just across the city.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind. Really, it’s the least I can do.” For some reason, I get the feeling that this is about more than just giving me a ride and the guilt and shame in his eyes only further confirms it. That’s precisely the reason why he _can’t_ drive me.

“It’s fine; I like to walk.” I force a smile to reassure him but it falls short and he looks even more concerned than he did a second ago.

“Cas—” But I’m already out the door. Dean doesn’t follow me and I almost wish he had.

By the time I get to my appointment, I’m drenched in sweat, overheating despite the bite in the November air and the crisp wind tugging at the sides of my overcoat. I hurry inside, checking in at the front desk before finding an empty corner of the waiting room where I can gather my thoughts.

Today has been…eventful. Yesterday was too. I don’t know how to feel about it all and just thinking about it gives me a headache. I know one thing for sure, though. I miss Dean. Even now, after practically running away from him, I can feel myself missing him. I don’t know what it is—if it’s him or me or both of us—but everything is just so _easy_. And impossible. Every step is a leap that feels like we’re standing still.

Everything’s a mess and I don’t know what to do.

Then an office door opens and my name is called. I swallow hard, pushing myself from my chair and forcing one foot in front of the other until I’m in Dr. Pamela Barnes’s office, sitting awkwardly in the corner of the sofa with my jacket folded on my lap.

She stares at me for a moment as I fidget in my seat, wringing my hands and staring at the floor.

“So, Castiel. The last time we met, you had some interesting thoughts about your childhood. Specifically concerning your family. Can you tell me more about them?”

I swallow thickly and stay silent for a few moments, gathering my thoughts. I don’t want to talk about my family.

“Can we talk about something else?” I ask, looking up at her briefly and seeing the surprise etched into her otherwise impassive features.

“Well, I was hoping to cover your family today, but if you have something else on your mind, you can talk about it.” She gestures for me to go on while quickly jotting something down in her notebook.

“Okay…well, when I was little I was…I was bullied a lot.” I shrug, twisting my fingers into my jacket. “Mostly by the high school football team but there were others too.” Closing my eyes, I try my hardest to block out the memories, but they force their way through. “There was this one guy who was worse than the others. Dean Winchester.” I watch her head shoot back in shock when she recognizes the name. Of course, she does.

“What made Dean so much worse?” I can see that this question is more for the sake of her own curiosity than anything else, but I answer anyway, needing to tell _someone_ —all the better that it’s someone who is legally sworn to secrecy.

“It was always different with him, I guess.” I tell her about the tutoring and the “relationship” we had. How it all ending so terribly. “Now he doesn’t remember anything and it makes me so _mad_ because how can he forget something like that? How can someone just _forget_ ruining another person’s life? It’s not fair. Why does he get to forget and I don’t?” My voice trembled by the end of my rant and my hands shake in my lap. I’m suddenly just so _mad_ at Dean. For everything. “The more time I spend with him, the more he seems to remember and I want him to remember. I _want_ him to know everything so he can understand…”

Pam looks at me for a long time, assessing me and piecing together the right words to say. “You need to be careful, Castiel. Some memories are buried for a reason.” I narrow my eyes at her, not fully understanding what she’s trying to say. She sees this on my face and elaborates. “The mind is a very powerful thing, Castiel. It does whatever it must to protect you. What I’m saying is that those memories Dean lost? They are memories so painful and so traumatic that his mind is repressing them to protect him. To keep him from crumbling under the weight of everything he’s done. The mind often uses physical trauma—such as the car accident and subsequent brain damage—to wipe out those memories until the brain is able to heal.”

I still don’t understand. “Dean was a monster. There’s no way he felt guilty for what he did to me. He would have stopped if he felt guilty.” This, I am sure of.

“He is only human, Castiel. You don’t know what he was going through or how he justified his actions to himself.” She crosses her ankles as my scowl deepens. Why is she defending him?

“There’s no way to justify what he did to me—what they all did to me—and anyone who tries is just as bad as them.” She smiles softly at me—kindly.

“I’m not defending him. What he did is horrible, but that version of Dean died in the car accident. Let him rest in peace.” She watches me intently, taking in the information I don’t even know I’m giving to her. “You, too, are only human. Your perception is one-sided—don’t forget this. Dean had his reasons, no matter how flawed they were, and I urge you not to push him too hard to remember. You don’t know everything that happened either, and you don’t want to know.”

The warning look she gives me sends chills down my spine and I know it’s not coming from my psychiatrist, but from someone who knows Dean Winchester—perhaps loves Dean Winchester. She knows something about my past that I don’t. And she’s right—I don’t want to know.

 

_DEAN_

The front door clicks shut and I just stand there, silently hoping Cas forgot something and will walk back in. Any second. I know he won’t though; not with the way he flew out of here like he couldn’t get away fast enough. I did something wrong. I must have because otherwise he’d still be here or he would have let me take him to whatever mystery appointment he has or…or I don’t know.

_Almost drowning you._

The whispered words force themselves in and I flinch at yet another reminder of all I’ve done wrong. Maybe it’s a good thing Cas isn’t coming. Maybe we need some space.

Even as I think it, I know that’s not what we need. Not what _I_ need anyway. Being around him is bringing it all back. Every horrible thing that I did to him—every memory, every painful event. I need to remember—to know what he felt and what I put him through—so that maybe he might be able to forgive me one day and we can…I don’t know…be friends? No—not friends. Cas has always been so much more than that.

“Dean?” I jump, realizing I’m still standing by the door. I shake my head, rubbing my palm over my eyes before turning away and passing Jo on my way back to the kitchen. “You okay?” I don’t turn to look at her, feeling a strange kind of loss as I start replacing the food I had set out on the counter. I guess Cas and I won’t be baking today. Or maybe ever. This feels like an end of sorts. Like a loss. Cas didn’t just have somewhere to be—he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be with me. And why would he?

“I’m fine.” I’m not.


	10. Love You In Red And Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyyyyoooo! So this took almost two weeks but HERE IT IS!! 
> 
> I actually don't know why I really loved writing this chapter but I did so I hope you love reading it as much, too!
> 
> Please leave me all your comments! Even if they're just your thoughts about things!
> 
> Okay okay, love you all.

**_October 26, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

I flinch away from their hands—roaming all over me; up under my shirt and down the front of my pants. There’s so many of them and I can’t hit them—that’d be the worst possible thing I could do. But they just won’t _stop_.

“No, stop…I don’t—no,” I manage to get out past the lips pressing against mine. This isn’t the first time I’ve been cornered in a locker room, but it’s definitely the first time in the _girl's_ locker room. I think this might be worse actually. All the hands and the lips and the _touching_. I hate it. I hate _them_.

“C’mon, Castiel, don’t you want me?” Lisa purrs in my ear and my stomach turns. I swallow back the vomit and tears as someone starts unbuckling my jeans. I push her hands away and struggle to take a few more steps toward the door. They just push me back, forcing me down on a bench as one of them straddles my lap.

“No, no no no! _No_ , just let me go!” I squeeze my eyes shut as my voice gets high and trembling. They’re all stronger than me—athletes. Cheerleaders and soccer players and volleyball players. They all have beautiful, strong bodies that Dean likes. _Dean_ likes these girls. Not me. I think that’s worse than anything.

Lisa’s hands take mine and press them to her boobs. I try to yank them away but she’s surprisingly strong, her nails dig into my wrists and gouging the skin—drawing blood. “You know you want me, Castiel. Just give in. I won’t tell; it’ll be our little secret,” she whispers close to my ear; her hot breath blowing across it before she draws my earlobe into her mouth, biting down hard. I whimper, trying to pull away but she only bites harder before moving to suck a bruise on my neck.

I start thrashing, not really caring about hurting them anymore. Surely being assaulted allows for some leeway on the hands-off policy.

Lisa grunts when she hits the floor but I don’t stop, pushing through the throng of girls as tears roll down my cheeks until I reach the door, shoving through it and right into a very familiar chest.

“Woah! Cas, what—” His arms close around me and I struggle to get loose. He lets me go and I stumble back, tears clouding my vision as I meet his startled gaze. He’s alone but I don’t stop long enough to let him decide whether or not he wants to hurt me today.

I run in the opposite direction, knowing full well that if he wants to catch me, he can. I don’t care. I feel dirty.

I make it out the door before doubling over and losing my lunch. My stomach heaves over and over until nothing else comes up. Nothing but sobs, anyway, and they rip free from my chest as I sink to my knees, stealing my breath as phantom hands tickle up my spine.

Then real hands, rubbing up and down my back in soothing circles. A deep voice, shushing me as I cry. That familiar chest against my cheek and those strong arms rocking me back and forth.

I want to sink into the warmth and comfort I’m being offered but I know I can’t. I _can’t_ because it always hurts in the end; it’s always taken away after a while. I want to stay right here so badly, butI pull away, jumping to my feet and swiping at my cheeks. Dean follows, reaching for me with soft hands and tender eyes but I just _can’t_.

“Cas, let me—”

“No!” I snap, shaking my head fiercely while backing away. “No, you’ve done enough,” I spit, glaring daggers at him and pretending it doesn’t hurt to see him flinch.

“At least let me drive you home.” His voice is so quiet; almost a whisper as he runs his hand over his jaw. I almost say yes. _Almost_ give in. But then I remember how ruthlessly he dismissed me last week. How I had helped him and how quickly he shot me down. The walk home from the hospital was long and the wind on my wet cheeks chilled me to the core.

“Don’t let me inconvenience you,” I snarl, picking up my bag and holding it to my chest in a protective measure. “I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

He rolls his eyes to the sky as if he’s looking for strength before he sighs, his shoulders slumping and his hands hanging limply by his sides. “You’re not a burden, Cas.” It’s almost a whisper but I definitely hear them. It’s not enough, though. He doesn’t mean it. He can’t mean it.

I turn without another word, putting one foot in front of the other—leaving Dean Winchester behind me. Not for long—not forever—but for now.

He lets me go.

 

I burst through the front door to an empty house. No one will be home for hours and I take it as an opportunity to write down my thoughts. Shutting my bedroom door behind me, I don’t bother locking it before tossing my bag down on my bed.

Something catches my eye and I stop halfway to my desk, looking more closely at the hot pink… _thing_ …sticking out of the open compartment of my bag. I crouch beside my bed, eyeing it closely before pulling it out and immediately jumping back, tossing the pink fabric across the room. My heart pounds from the shock and my face flames even though there’s no reason for it.

I’ve seen women’s underwear before. In the mall and the rare—and horrifying—occasion when Anna’s laundry gets mixed up with mine.

But these…they’re not just plain old utilitarian cotton. These are silky with lace trim and half the butt missing. Not a…not a _thong_. But not full underwear, either.

I rub at my burning cheeks and pick up the panties with the end of a finger. I’m sure they’re part of some elaborate scheme to get me in trouble with the principal but seeing as Lisa’s plan didn’t exactly go as she’d hoped…now they’re here in my bedroom.

I drop them in the trash bin beside my desk before sitting in my chair and pulling out a notebook and pen. I start scribbling down random thoughts, doodling in the margins and drawing a blank on everything. I try to focus but my mind keeps drifting back to the satiny panties in the bin a few feet away. I shake my head, reaching for my glasses and slipping them on before refocussing on the empty page in front of me.

My eyes wander to my right. I can just barely see them; the bright color making it easier. I wonder if they’re as soft as they look?

 _No_ , I berate myself. I stare back at the page, resting my head in my hand to keep it from turning towards those infernal panties. _I’m the only one home. No one would ever have to know…_

I check the time. School is over but no one will be home for at least another couple hours. Snapping my notebook shut, I stand before I can talk myself out of it. As wrong as it feels, I want to do it. Curiosity gets the better of me as I undo my belt and shove my jeans to the floor, stepping out of them and almost falling on my face in the process but managing to catch myself on my desk.

My briefs are off next and I’m naked from the waist down, feeling the cool air on my legs. Before I can think too much about it, I pull the panties from the trash and slide them up my legs, closing my eyes when I settle to cool, smooth material over my crotch. I shiver, but not from the cold.

My penis stretches the fabric, making it tent in the front and pull tight across my hips and butt. They ride up a little but I like it. It feels…nice. The tent in the front grows.

_No one will be home for a few hours. They’ll never know._

I pull my shirt over my head and debate taking off my glasses but decide against it. Dean loves my glasses. Lying down on my bed, I close my eyes and imagine Dean’s strong body moving over me. His lips sliding over my neck and his hands in my hair.

I moan, shifting restlessly on the bed as my hands move over my aching erection, rubbing gently and gasping at the friction the satin creates. My hips arch and roll as I get closer and closer. I imagine Dean’s hips thrusting faster and faster. He moans my name.

“Cas?” Yeah, like that.

Wait…

My eyes fly open and I swear I burst into flames. A squeak erupts from my chest as I roll myself up in my blanket, cocooning myself inside. Oh God! Oh my God! Oh. My. _God!_ I feel sick—so mortified I could throw up. Tears prick my eyes as I picture every possible way this could pan out.

There are too many to count—all of them ending horribly for me.

 

_DEAN_

Oh my _fucking_ God. No way. _No way._

This was definitely not what I was expecting when I left school thirty minutes ago. A fight? Yes. Overwhelming guilt? Most definitely. But Cas moaning my name while getting off in—God, help me—fucking hot pink panties? Never fucking crossed my mind. Only in my deepest fantasies does this ever happen.

Even as drunk as I am—I can’t fight with Cas sober…come to think of it, I don’t do much with Cas while sober—I know I’m not imagining this. Especially not now that Cas is hiding from me inside a cocoon of his own making.

And now I’m so fucking hard it hurts. I throw down my bag and almost rip my jacket in my hurry to get it off. It’s too damn hot in here. My breaths come in heavy pants as I move across the room on shaky legs. Cas hasn’t moved a muscle since burrowing in his bed but I can still picture the look on his face—the pure, unrestrained pleasure—and the question of where he got the panties briefly crosses my mind since even _looking_ at women’s underwear makes him blush, so I can’t imagine him buying any—but the thought passes without an answer as I peel the blanket back a little to see Cas’s face.

It’s immediately ripped out of my hands and tucked back around Cas’s head. Mumbled words come from inside but I can’t make them out.

I decide to try a different approach. Dragging myself to the end of the bed, I slide my hands under the blanket, running them up his calves and thighs before settling them on his hips. His pert little ass is presented so perfectly that my mouth waters. I want to taste it.

So I do.

Pulling the fabric aside, I lightly flick my tongue over his puckered hole. He jerks forward but my grip on his hips keeps him from getting away. I do it again and he moans. It’s weird—I’ve never done this to anyone but I kind of like it. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s Cas.

I bury my face between his cheeks and shove my tongue inside him. A muffled squeak erupts from above me as he spreads his legs a little wider. The sight of Cas like this, with his perfect little ass presented to me in fucking _pink panties_ …it just…God, I’m so damn hard it hurts.

I test his limits a little, pushing the blanket up his back to just below his shoulders. He lets me, squirming impatiently and wiggling his ass in my face.

I almost come in my damn jeans.

Running my hands over his back, I revel in his little pleasured tremors. Every whimper and every sigh stoking the fire higher and higher until I’ve got two fingers and my tongue inside him and he’s grinding back into me, his embarrassment and shame forgotten—tossed aside with the blanket. I remove my fingers when he’s just about to come, grinning at the whine of protest he lets out.

“You—uh…” I blush and silently count my blessings that Cas is on his stomach. “Got any…lube?” Cas’s entire body flushes bright red as he hesitates before reaching for his nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out a small bottle filled with clear liquid. It’s unopened and he snaps the seal before handing it over his shoulder to me. I smirk as he stretches in such a way that I can’t see his face.

Almost without thinking, I grip his hips and flip him onto his back. I swear to God I choke on my own saliva. Those fucking _glasses_. I have to look away because it’s almost too much. Cas—my Cas—in pink panties with his hair a mess and his skin flushed pink, wearing those _glasses_. I couldn’t have imagined it better.

“Jesus Christ, Cas,” I murmur, running my eyes over every inch of his skin. Blue eyes made bluer by red cheeks—made bigger by the magnification of his glasses.

I almost fall off the bed trying to get undressed.

I hook his legs over my shoulders before slicking my aching cock with probably too much lube. Leaning forward, I bend Cas almost in half as I move the fabric to the side and slowly press forward, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. Every time his face twists with pain, I stop, only for him to wriggle impatiently. I chuckle and watch as his eyes widen and his cock twitches in the panties, straining the material and leaving a wet spot where his pre-come leaks out.

I start slow, pressing my fists into the mattress on either side of his head and thrusting my hips gently into his tight little hole. My eyes roll back in my head as liquid fire courses through my veins. Nothing’s ever felt like this. Never felt this good.

Cas whimpers and mewls, twitching his hips in time with mine as his little nose scrunches and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Keep your eyes open,” I snap, grabbing his chin with one hand and giving it a little shake. They snap open immediately, wide and compliant. I take my hand from his chin and move it to his thigh, gripping just above his knee as my rhythm breaks and my thrusts get more jerky. I lean forward so we’re almost nose to nose, folding Cas in half and marveling at his flexibility. His pupils are blown, leaving just a ring of blue circling the black. I can’t seem to look away.

And suddenly I’m kissing him as something foreign swells in my chest. It’s warm and light—not unpleasant—but it’s terrifying. So intense that it pushes me over the edge and I’m falling. So hard and so fast that I let out a shout, not realizing how hard I’m squeezing Cas leg or that I’m even pulling his hair at all.

He whimpers, his eyes flashing with pain and I let go immediately. He smiles up at me as I thrust shallowly into him, reaching between us to wrap my hand around his hard cock. He shivers as my hand moves over him, the satin in between creating delicious friction.

Cas’s head presses back into the pillow but he doesn’t close his eyes, keeping his heavy-lidded gaze on me as he comes.

Our breathing is labored as we stare into each other’s eyes and that swelling feeling takes over me again as I notice the different shades of blue in his iris. So multifaceted. So beautiful. I pull out and he whimpers, his cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink after. I smile, kissing both cheeks in turn before grabbing some tissues from the nightstand and cleaning us both off.

I tug on my boxers and look over my shoulder at Cas. A frown mars his face as he watches me—his eyes are sad. “You’re leaving?” _What?_ I return his frown and crawl back in beside him.

“I wasn’t planning on it—not until I find out where you got these,” I say, snapping the lace trim of his panties against his hip and reveling in the blush that paints his cheeks.

Even through the embarrassment, his relief is clear. That odd swelling is back and it takes the breath from my lungs.

“So? The panties?” I say with a grin. His face falls as he turns away from me and my smile melts away. Shit. “Does it have to do with whatever happened today? In the locker room?” He flinches and I know that’s a yes. My heart sinks as I reach a hand out to place on his arm. He jerks away, curling himself into a ball and hugging his knees to his chest. “I’m so sorry, Cas,” I whisper, trying again to pull him to me. He doesn’t fight me this time, rolling over and curling into my chest as tears start to fall.

“They just wouldn’t stop _touching_ me.” His voice is muffled but I still hear his words and they break my heart. “Their hands were everywhere and there wasn’t anything I could do, Dean. They just…they—they…” His voice breaks as a sob rips free, tearing at me as I hold him closer.

And the worst part? This is entirely _my_ fault. They wouldn’t pay him any attention if I had just left him alone.

“I don’t even know why I put them on.” He hiccups as his tears wet my bare chest. The swelling hurts now. Plagued with guilt and shame and something else…something I can’t name.

Suddenly he’s struggling against me, fighting to get away as he kicks his legs. I let him go, beyond confused at his change in mood. Then I realize what he’s doing—struggling to do, actually. His feet get all tangled in the pink fabric and he starts thrashing.

“Get them off!” He whimpers and I grab both his ankles in my hands, holding him still while shushing him. I pull them off and toss them to the floor, reaching for Cas’s blanket and pulling it over both of us as his breathing slows. I pull him back into my chest and run my fingers through his wild hair. That damn swelling grows with every breath I take—every shuddering breath _he_ takes—and with it, the pain magnifies. His pain made into my pain. And anger, too.—so much anger that I can barely contain it.

“Who was it?” I ask, even though I already have a pretty good idea of who it was. Or who started it all, anyway.

He sniffles and looks up at me with wide, confused eyes, those glasses still on, though slightly askew. “What?”

“Who was it with the panties,” I gesture vaguely in their direction. “And the locker room?” He hesitates, staring at my chest and debating whether or not he should say anything. “Cas…” There’s a warning in my voice.

“Lisa…It was Lisa Braeden and twenty or so others.” _Twenty!_ Jesus fucking Christ. I’m not surprised in the least about Lisa, but _that many_ other girls have it out for Cas too? This has to stop. I have to make them stop, but how can I do that if I can’t even get _myself_ to stop.

 

_CASTIEL_

_No…no no, Dad, don’t, please don’t hurt Sammy, no. Me…hurt me. Not Sammy…Dad, please…_

I wake with a start, disoriented in the dark and confused by the foreign voice in my room. Light streams in from my open window, illuminating my surroundings enough for me to see the body lying next to me. Dean.

“Dad…stop—stop! Please…” I freeze in pure astonishment and horror at the sound of the broken plea from Dean’s sleeping lips. _A nightmare. He’s having a nightmare_. He cries out, his face contorting in pain as my heart thunders in my chest. He jerks beside me, tears rolling down his face in twin rivers, his eyebrows furrowed, creating a deep crease in between.

“Please, I’m _sorry_ …I’m sorry…” A sob rips out of him and tears at my heart as I reach for him, gripping his shoulder and shaking hard. His eyes snap open suddenly, his pupils wide and unseeing as I’m pinned on my back. His hands close around my throat, squeezing tight. I struggle against him, thrashing my arms and legs as he mumbles under his breath. _He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me and not even mean to._ Tears leak from my eyes, running down my cheeks and into my ears as black spots start to dance in my vision. My movements get weaker—sluggish—and I bring my hand up to his face, scratching lightly at his cheek.

His eyes shift from the blank stare and he frowns, blinking a few times before suddenly disappearing from above me. I slump in relief and hear a thud when he hits the floor. I take a few deep, shuddering breaths and rub at my brutalized neck.

Swiping at my cheeks, I struggle to push myself up, keeping my blanket wrapped around me as I stumble through my room for the light switch.

For a moment, as my eyes adjust to the light, I can’t find him. Then movement catches the corner of my eye from under the desk and I see him curled up with his knees to his chest, wiping tears from his eyes.

This version of Dean Winchester is not one I even knew existed. He’s always so hard and tough. Not a care in the world other than for his little brother. I don’t know how to handle this version. I don’t know what to expect or how to speak to this Dean. He’s so vulnerable. So fragile.

“Dean?” I whisper, taking a careful step closer like he’s a wild animal that could attack at any moment.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is so low that if it weren’t so quiet in the house, I wouldn’t have heard him. “Nightmares,” he sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand but making no move to get out.

“Do you want to talk about them? I know it helps sometimes.” I pause, wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “I know it helps me,” I whisper watching as he flinches and guilt contorts his features.

He doesn’t immediately shoot me down so I roll my desk chair out of the way and crawl in next to him, leaving a small space between us.

“They—um…they’re about my dad, mostly. That one was,” he gestures towards my bed. “He used to beat me. He’d get really drunk and just…” He doesn’t look at me as he rubs his hand down his cheek. “His favorite reason was to toughen us up. _Make us men_ , he said. Really he just wanted to make sure we wouldn’t be fags.” I flinch at the term and he winces. “Sorry.”

I shrug but don’t comment, waiting patiently for him to continue. “Sometimes they’re about my mom. I see her dying and we can’t save her. _I_ can’t save her and every time I get close, the floor falls out from under me or the roof falls in. It’s always something. I can never save her.” Every part of me aches at the image of a young boy losing his mother that way. Of _Dean_ losing his mother that way.

“What about that one?” I gesture towards my bed and he looks over at me, meeting my eyes for a moment before they move over me. He doesn’t answer my question; only smirks when my stomach growls.

“Come on, let’s go get some food.” He climbs out from under the desk and pulls his clothes on, kicking mine over to me as well.

“We can’t make food; it’s too late,” I say, pulling my clothes on anyway and tossing the blanket back on my bed. My mom might not pay attention to me normally, but she’ll definitely notice me making food at two in the morning.

“No, we’re going out. I know a place.”

I almost say no. Almost refuse to go because I know it’ll change everything—for me, at least—and I don’t think I’ll survive if it all falls apart.

But I go because I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do for Dean Winchester.

 

**_December 5, 2018_ **

_DEAN_

The sun is high in the sky by the time I get home from my twelve-hour shift. My eyes burn from the smoke caused by the small field fire we had to put out this morning but it’s nothing a few eyedrops won’t fix.

I sag with exhaustion. I didn’t get home until nine last night which means I didn’t get too much sleep. None at all actually.

Fucking Castiel. My mind whirled all night because of him, running over everything we did and everything I said. There’s nothing that can explain why he ran out of my house like it was on fire yesterday. But then there’s everything I don’t remember. That I _still_ don’t remember. Every time I think of that giant blank space in my past, I get mad. So fucking mad because why do _I_ get to forget? Why not Cas? Why does he have to live with it all?

It’s so messed up. All of it—this whole situation makes me want to scream at the heavens and beat my head against the wall. I need to remember everything. That’s the only way I can fix what’s broken between Cas and I. Or have a shot at fixing it, anyway.

I drag my feet up the stoop and fumble with my keys before finally managing to open the door. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I answer without looking at the caller ID.

“Yeah,” I say, kicking off my shoes and falling over the back of my couch.

“Hey, Dean.” I smile at the sound of Sam’s voice, crossing my ankles on the armrest while watching the ceiling fan spin.

“What’s up, Sammy? How’s school?”

“It’s great, actually. Exams start tomorrow and I think I’m ready. My TA’s great; he’s helping me study tonight, actually.” He gets that childlike excitement in his voice as he speaks—the one that was absent for most of his actual childhood.

“Sounds like a pretty great TA. Is she hot?” I smirk when the sound of him choking on air travels through the phone. “Ah, so she _is_ hot. You sly dog!”

“ _Dean!_ ” He hisses, only making me laugh harder. “My TA’s a _dude_ , dude. Oh, and get this; he’s Castiel Novak’s big brother.” It’s my turn to choke on my own tongue. Just hearing his name does something to me. Shivers race down my spine as warmth settles in my chest. I smile for an entirely different reason before it falls away when I remember the events of yesterday.

“Really?” My voice is too high but Sam doesn’t notice, and if he does, he doesn’t mention it. We chat for a while, talking about his classes and what I’ve been up too. I may or may not tell a few half-truths but by the time we hang up, I’m feeling lighter. Something about talking to Sam about our uneventful lives is calming. Not much as been uneventful for us and it’s nice that things are starting to even out—for him anyway. I’m glad he’s happy.

I drift off, watching the fan spin in slow circles, thinking about all the things I didn’t say.

 

I’m jerked from my light sleep by a soft knock on the door and it makes me irrationally angry. Fucking solicitors, can’t a guy catch a decent nap once in a while? I’m so angry that I decide to give them a piece of my mind—throwing my legs over the side of the couch with a huff and storming to the door with a scowl that could curdle milk.

I swing open the door with the hateful words already rolling off my tongue but I freeze when a hesitant face looks back at me, mostly taken up by big blue eyes and a nervous smile.

The scowl melts from my face as Cas looks me over, his face falling when he sees me dressed in my dirty Lawrence Fire Station t-shirt and fire pants. I probably have dirt on my face too.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Just like that, I feel like the worlds biggest piece of shit because I _did_ forget and I don’t even remember what it is I was supposed to remember. “The surprise?” Cas looks at me hopefully and I look at the floor while shrugging apologetically. His shoulders slump as he sighs, shuffling his feet and refusing to meet my eyes. “It’s fine. Forget about it.” He turns away and I panic a little.

“Wait!” He does. “Just…just let me shower and…change.” He follows me inside and fidgets with his jacket, his eyes moving around the room like he’s not sure what to do with himself. “Grab a seat and I’ll be right out.” He just nods. No smile. He still won’t meet my eyes.

I take the quickest shower of my life and throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pulling on a red flannel over top for good measure. I hurry back to the living room, my hair still dripping wet, and find Cas standing where I left him.

“We don’t have to go today, Dean. If you’re tired—”

“We’re going.” I cut him off and grab my jacket, grinning at him as he seems to relax a little. I’m actually really fucking excited to see where he takes me and it doesn’t even cross my mind that it could be another shitty memory. At this point, I don’t even care if it is. I want to know everything I did to him. I _need_ to know. So if this is another forgotten horror, then so be it. I’ll take every one he has to give me and deal with the consequences later.

Cas doesn’t seem nervous anymore though. He’s not quiet and focused like the other times—he seems happy now—a small smile curving his lips as he follows me to the car. I climb into the driver's seat without a second thought, turning the ignition and looking over at the passenger’s side, only then noticing that Cas isn’t in the seat beside me. What the hell? My head snaps to my left and he’s standing outside my door with a frown.

“Get in,” I say, returning his frown with a confused one of my own.

“You don’t know where we’re going.”

“So, you can tell me.”

“Then it won’t be a surprise.” He looks at me like I’m stupid.

“No one drives my car but me, Novak,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at him.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he mutters under his breath, but I hear it, my head snapping back on my neck as my frown turns into a scowl.

“When the fuck did you drive my car?”

“High school.” He doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t give me any more of an explanation than that and I guess he doesn’t have to—not with the ice in his eyes or the set of his jaw. I slide out of the driver’s seat without another word, scooting across the bench and feeling oddly vulnerable. _No_ one drives my fucking car but me.

Cas slides in beside me, buckling up and shifting the car into reverse, but I stop him before he can move, placing a hand on his knee. His head snaps in my direction—his wide, startled eyes catching mine.

“Can you even drive?” He looks at me like I’m dumb but doesn’t answer, flicking my hand off his leg before backing out of the driveway with more confidence than what I’d expect from someone that takes the bus everywhere.

The passenger side brake gets a workout, my foot pressing hard into the floor at every stop sign and red light. Cas glares at me every time I suck in a sharp breath or grip the seat. I almost feel bad because Cas is actually a pretty good driver it’s just…no one drives my car.

I’m so busy worrying about Cas’s driving that I don’t pay attention to where we’re actually going, so when Cas pulls up to our destination, I explode with astonished laughter.

“Really, Cas? _Really?_ Your big surprise outing is to the _pound_?” He just smiles sheepishly and hands me back my keys.

“You don’t remember then,” he says sadly, getting out of the car before I can ask what he means by that. But even as I get out to ask him, I know I’ve been here before. It feels familiar to me. A good kind of familiar. Cas is smiling so I know that, somehow, he’s connected to this familiarity. I forget about asking and just follow him inside.

“Dean? Dean Winchester, is that you?” I perk up at the sound of my name but don’t recognize the voice. Frowning, I look at the young woman walking towards me, her brown hair tied up in a ponytail and a lab coat tossed over her shoulder.

I look to Cas for an answer and he takes pity on me. “Amelia Richardson. She’s the vet.” I still don’t have a clue who this woman is but she’s hugging me and she smells kind of nice. It’s a familiar smell. I don’t think I slept with her—God, what if I did? This is about to get fucking _awkward_.

“God, how long has it been? Eight years? How’s your brother? How’s Sam?” Her eyes twinkle when she says his name and I smile in relief. It’s Sam she has a thing for, not me.

“Sam’s fine. He’s in law school at Stanford, actually. Top of his class.” I can’t hide the pride in my voice and she smiles when she hears it too.

“You’re such a good brother.” She shakes her heads with a smile, turning to Cas and hugging him too. He returns it reluctantly, patting her awkwardly on the back while looking at me for help. I smile wickedly, watching as she sways him back and forth.

“God, Castiel! I haven’t seen you since…what? I guess the last time was when you came in with Dean.” Came in with me? Why would he come in with me? I look at Cas but he doesn’t explain. “So…what can I do for you guys?”

“Well…I just wanted to look at the cats…” Cas shrugs but I can tell there’s more to this trip than just looking at cats. I narrow my eyes at him but he doesn’t look my way.

“Sure, follow me.” Amelia leads us behind the desk and through the door that doesn’t lead to the barking fleabags. Cas’s wide eyes travel over all the cages. He turns to the first one, sticking his fingers through the bars to stroke the orange tabby that’s rubbing up against them. There’s a soft smile on his face and he tilts his head in awe, cooing at the little cat.

I’m captivated. Watching Cas with that smile on his face does something to me deep down inside. There’s so much softness in his eyes that it just makes me melt, even if it is directed at the little shits in here.

He turns to me, his smile widening when he meets my eyes. My heart leaps. “Don’t you like them?” I nod before I can think otherwise. I’m really not an animal person—don’t think I ever was—but seeing how thrilled Cas is to be here makes me almost think I could be.

He moves on to the next cage, smiling and petting the black and white kitten inside. I read her name tag—Minnie—and laugh as she somehow manages to get her tail through the bars and rub it along Cas’s nose. He sniffs, rubbing his face and scratching underneath her chin.

“She came in the other day. Her brother was adopted yesterday and I’m sure her new owner’s not far away,” Amelia says with the most suggestive look I’ve ever seen. I roll my eyes—there’s no way I’m buying a cat.

But Cas looks almost swayed and I start to think that maybe that’s why he brought me here. Does Cas want a pet? Someone to keep him company late at night when he’s all alone? The thought that I could be the one to do that sneaks inside my mind but I push it away. Cas doesn’t want that. Not from me.

The rest of the time goes by in a blur of fluffy kittens and soft smiles. Cas doesn’t mention getting one and neither do I, but I can see the longing in his eyes. He wants someone to come home to at night and I can’t even blame him. He wants the unconditional love of a pet—someone who will always be there no matter what.

But he doesn’t mention adopting any of them. I don’t get it. He wants one—that much I can tell—but something’s holding him back.

We get to the last cage and inside it a fluffy, jet black cat. She’s beautiful—her blue eyes shining brightly against her dark face. I’m instantly captivated by her. Unlike the rest of the kittens, this one doesn’t move to greet us, choosing instead to stay at the back of her cage. Also unlike the rest of the cats, this one doesn’t have a name.

I turn to Cas, seeing that he, too, is struck by this one; his hands clutch the bars as he stares into eyes that match his almost exactly.

“That one’s time is almost up,” Amelia says from behind us with a heavy sigh. I turn to her with a frown.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, we can only keep them for so long before we have to make room for new ones…she’s been here for too long.” She shrugs, looking sadly into the cage. “No one wants a black cat—bad luck and all—and she’s not exactly friendly. Unfortunately, if she’s not adopted within the next couple of days, we’ll have to euthanize her. Poor thing.” She looks at the cat a little longer before leaving us alone.

I turn to Cas, seeing the utter devastation on his face as he watches her. She licks her paw before rubbing it over her face. I watch as Cas’s face crumbles.

“Cas—”

“Take me home, please.” He won’t look at me, choosing instead to look at the black beauty in her prison.

“But—”

“ _Please_ …just take me home.” His voice catches as he turns away from the cage—tears his eyes away from her—and walks purposefully out of the hall. I look back at her one more time before following Cas out. A stone sits in my stomach, knowing that we’re leaving her here to die. I know death is a part of life but this…it doesn’t feel right to me.

I drop Cas off at his apartment after a _too_ _silent_ ride back and then I drive home. Sitting in my driveway for a long time after, I find that I can’t get out of the car. It feels wrong—like if I get out, I’ll have failed Cas in some way. If I forget about the cat on death row, I’ll have committed an unforgivable act.

I make my decision before I can think too hard on it, pulling out of the driveway before I can stop myself.

I drive too fast to the pound—knowing they close soon—and run inside when I get there. Amelia is just getting ready to lock up.

“Dean? What are you doing?”

I’m sweaty and out of breath but I’m excited, too. “I want the black one; the one on death row. I want her.”


	11. Luna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so this is just a short one but I hope you still like it. Let me know in the comments.

**_October 27, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

I pull up outside of Bela’s Breakfast Bistro and nudge Cas. He jerks awake, shooting up in his seat with a small yelp. I watch as his eyebrows furrow in confusion and he frowns, turning to face me after taking a good look at the restaurant.

“It’s closed,” he says and I can only grin, nodding for him to get out before following behind him.

I hold up the takeout bag in my hand. “Got this while you were sleeping.” His cheeks redden with a cute blush as he looks away and I lead him past the gate and to the back corner of the patio. It’s dark—all the lights turned off for the night—but the stars are bright and the moon is almost full, lighting up Cas’s face and turning his eyes a deep blue. His glasses still rest on his nose and he pushes them up every now and again. He rubs at his eyes and blinks a few times and I frown. “Don’t you only need those for reading?”

The light of the moon lets me see the darkening of his cheeks as he blushes. “I thought you liked my glasses,” he murmurs, looking at his hands that rest on the table between us.

I take both his hands in one of mine, engulfing them entirely. “I do…I _really_ do, but I don’t want you to strain your eyes because of me.” He just looks at me for a minute with an entirely baffled expression. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so sad. Instead of saying anything else, I reach forward and slide his glasses up so they rest on his head, pushing his wild hair back and off his forehead.

He smiles softly—almost shyly—at me and I have to look away before the ache in my chest swells too big. I pull two burgers and two fries out of the bag, handing one to Cas, along with a drink and he thanks me before taking a big bite.

“So…” I chew quickly while furrowing my eyebrows, taking a sip of my drink to wash it down before continuing. Cas watches me closely—a little warily. “I know Metrat is making you tutor me, but what do you get out of it?” I’ve wondered since the first day. I honestly thought I was screwed when Mr. Metatron told me he was going to ask Castiel to tutor me. If I were him, I’d have said _no fucking way_ and laughed when I failed. Then again, I would’ve beat the shit out of him if he did, so I guess there really is no winning for Cas.

He doesn’t say anything for a bit; probably going over every possible way it could be used against him. When he does answer, his voice is small and quiet. “He promised to write a reference letter for me.”

“For college?” He nods, looking down at his half-eaten burger before taking another bite with a small smile.

“These make me…very happy.” I grin and roll my eyes, shoving a fry in my mouth as I watch him. It’s almost like he’s never eaten a burger before.

“So what do you want to do, then? For a job, I mean.” He blushes again.

“I—um…I want to be a writer.” His nose does this adorable little wrinkle and he smiles to himself just thinking about it. I can’t help the flutter in my stomach.

“What made you want to be a writer?” My burger sits half-eaten and forgotten on the table in front of me as I watch Cas’s face. His eyes turn sad but there’s a small tilt to his lips.

“My dad. He’s a writer—not a very popular one but he loves it. I guess I got it from him.” He shrugs while tracing patterns on the table. “Chuck Shirley. I’m sure you’ve never heard of him.” I shake my head but make a mental note to look him up.

“How many books has he published?”

“He wrote a series a few years ago but we no longer speak so I’m unaware of any more publications.” Cas’s words are measured, holding back a tidal wave of emotion behind carefully chosen phrasing. He’d be a wonderful writer.

“For what it’s worth, I’d read your books.” And it’s true; I’d read every last word of anything with Cas’s name on it. I narrow my eyes on him when he blushes but I don’t ask. Does Cas write _dirty stories?_ Yeah, I’d _definitely_ read those.

“What about you? What’re your plans after high school?” I have to concentrate really hard on his words because there’s this one piece of hair hanging over his forehead and it’s just so cute and I just _really_ want to kiss him. “Dean?” Right—his question.

“Well…um—the football scouts will be at the state finals so, hopefully,” I cross my fingers, “I’ll be picked up by a college team for a full ride. Otherwise, I don’t know.” I pick at my fries while staring at the table. “Firefighter, I guess.” I shrug. I don’t explain further and Cas doesn’t ask, even though his curiosity is palpable.

“What about Sam? What is he planning?” I shut down almost instinctively at the mention of Sam, wanting to protect him at all cost. But this is _Cas_. Cas, who I can tell anything to. Sweet, thoughtful, caring Cas. My Cas.

“He’s pretty messed up with the drugs and stuff. Not sure he’ll be doing much of anything if he doesn’t smarten up.” I try so hard to sound unfazed but there’s this…catch…in my voice that gives me away. Cas hears it and hesitantly reaches out, touching one of my fingers with one of his. “He’s so fucking smart, though. He could do anything he wants, but after Mom and Jess he just…” I shake my head, swiping angrily at my eyes with the hand that Cas isn’t touching. “I can’t even blame him.” I shrug. “It’s not like I’m a fucking model citizen,” I say with a bitter laugh, pulling out the flask of whiskey I have in my jacket pocket.

Cas eyes it like it’s his worst enemy and for the first time, I feel like what I do is wrong. Something about his disapproval makes me want to change and I’m not exactly sure if that’s a good thing.

We sit in silence for a long time. Cas seems to be thinking really hard on something, occasionally opening his mouth to speak before thinking better of it and closing his mouth again. I watch him closely but can’t seem to get a sense of his thoughts.

“Just spit it out,” I say after the anticipation becomes too much.

He hesitates once more until I glare at him. “Well—um…what…what—” He swallows hard and takes a deep breath before _finally_ spitting it out. “What was your mom like?" The air rushes from my lungs and I choke on a fry, my eyes watering as I cough it up. The walls go up immediately as they always do when discussing my parents.

“I don’t know, Cas, what’s your mom like? She came to all my football games and made me do chores. Told me she _wasn’t mad, just disappointed_ when I did something wrong. What do you want me to say, Jesus.” He shrinks into himself and I instantly feel bad but…yeah, that’s just a sore spot for me.

“Please don’t do that,” he whispers, refusing to meet my hard gaze.

“Do what?” I snap, crumpling up my garbage with more force than I need to. My heart is pounding wildly as flashbacks from the fire run through my mind. I was only four but I remember it like it was yesterday. The heat—oh God, the _heat_ —it exploded over me. I thought my face was going to melt off. And Dad…he wouldn’t leave without Mom. I thought Sammy and I would lose both our parents in one night.

“Ruin this night for me,” he answers and I freeze, handling my garbage more carefully and putting it away before looking at Cas. His eyes are wide and almost fearful as he watches me with his hands in his lap and his burger forgotten in front of him.

I sigh, nudging Cas’s food towards him for him to eat before taking a deep breath and steadying my mind. “She was wonderful. She balanced my dad out in a way that made him bearable. She had this…this _calming_ effect on people that just made you want to be around her.” I pause, grinning just at the thought of her and my dad. They were so different. “She made the best pies I think I’ve ever had; even my aunt Ellen can’t top her’s. She sure tries though.”

Cas listens with rapt attention, smiling this smile that makes me lose my train of thought. I have to look away from him just to get the words out.

“She…umm…” I smile and shake my head. “She was made to raise boys, for sure. She didn’t take our shit or my dad’s either—and we were little bastards.” I laugh, thinking about the time Sam broke his arm jumping off the shed roof and I drove him to the hospital on the handles of my bike. God, I was in so much shit when the nurse called her from the hospital. “I…um—” My voice breaks and I frown, staring into the middle distance as I try to contain my tears. “I miss her, Cas. I miss her more than anything.” Biting my lip, I clench my fists on the table in front of me.

There’s no pity in Cas’s eyes when I look at them; only compassion. He has a way for that—compassion, I mean. I’m the last person he should feel anything for, but here we are.

The feelings I’ve been trying to shove down for the last week are there, right on the tip of my tongue. It’d be so easy to let them roll off into the cool night air. _So_ easy to say to Cas. He makes it all so easy, which is exactly why it’s all so impossible. It’s all just too _easy_.

We pack up when Cas starts to shiver and I take him home. We don’t speak—I’m too afraid the words will come out all on their own—so I clamp my jaw shut tight and hold Cas’s hand, stroking his fingers lightly with mine.

We pull up outside his house and I know I have to say something. He opens his door. “Cas, I…” Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_. I clear my throat and force my eyes to look anywhere but at his. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

~*~*~*~

Cas is walking a few steps in front of me. He doesn’t know I’m here and I’m by myself for once so there’s no threat of anyone forcing me to hurt him. I smile softly at the back of his head, remembering the words that I didn’t say last night. The halls are clearing and the minute change in Cas’s speed gives away his anxiety. I watch him as I get closer and my smile instantly sours when I see a dark red patch on the left side of his neck. Is that a…it’s a fucking hickey. I know _I_ didn’t put it there, so who the fuck _did?_

Lengthening my strides, I’m beside Cas in a second, threading my fingers through his hair and holding lightly as his eyes widen with panic. “Shh, it’s okay. Just keep walking,” I soothe and his shoulders relax a little but there’s still a tiny bit of panic. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t sting a little, but I definitely deserve his distrust. Underneath it all, my gut rolls with anger and I practically shake with it.

I watch over the top of his head—which only just reaches my eye level—for anyone I know and, when I don’t see anyone, I lead him into a dark doorway and push him up against the wall. “Dean, what are you—”

“Who did this?” I spit, jabbing my finger into the side of his neck and wincing when he flinches. I ease up, letting my fingers slide through his hair before they fall back to my side.

“I—I…um—” He’s shaking so bad his teeth are chattering so I take a step back. His wide eyes follow my every move as his arms wrap protectively around himself. He swallows hard and won’t meet my eyes and I sigh, taking a step towards him and leaning against the doorway with my back to the hall to block him from view.

“I’m not mad at _you_ ,” I say, guessing the source of his terror. He nods once and takes a deep, shuddering breath. I reach a hand towards him, taking his shaky one in mine, and tilt his chin up with the other so he’s forced to meet my gaze. “I’m not mad at you, Cas. I’m not.”

“Okay,” he whispers, nodding again. “Okay.” He takes a deep breath and squeezes my fingers. “Lisa. It was Lisa.” My eyes harden as anger burns my stomach.

“I’ll deal with her.”

“No! No, you’ll only make it worse!” But I’m not thinking of anything but how I’ll make her pay for touching Cas. _My_ Cas. I pull him towards me by the grip I have on his chin, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before glancing around the empty hallway.

“You have so little faith in me, Novak.” I shoot him my panty-dropping smile and I’m rewarded with a blush. “C’mon, walk ahead of me; I’ll make sure you get to class.”

 

I watch from down the hall as Lisa presses herself into Cas, whispering in his ear as he struggles against her. No one notices, turning away when they see what’s happening and anger boils inside me as I pick up my pace. Cas doesn’t see me; he’s too busy trying to get away. Even from here I can see her nails biting into the skin on his wrists. He’s wincing in pain when I finally get close enough to wrap an arm around Lisa’s shoulders and pull her off of him.

“Didn’t think I’d ever have to kick _your_ ass for trying to steal my girl.” The words are automatic, as is Lisa’s smile. And Cas’s flinch. I can’t look at him as I lead Lisa away—his pain is palpable as it is and I can’t deal with seeing it too. “What would you say to missing the first half of class?” I give her the same grin I gave Cas earlier and it makes me sick. This is forced; I don’t _want_ to do this.

When did everything change?

She doesn’t even answer, just steers me to the janitor’s closet. I look around the hall for any teachers before opening the door and shoving her inside, following close behind and shutting the door. She’s on me before the door is fully closed, her lips on my neck and her hands up my shirt. My skin crawls everywhere she touches and I have to force myself not to lose my temper and shove her away.

Eventually, I get a hold of her hands and press them against the wall. “Stop!” I snap, and the look of utter confusion on her face is almost laughable. No one says _no_ to Lisa Braedon. “We’re not doing this.” Her confusion morphs into anger, but she doesn’t even get to half of my level. I’m pissed. Beyond pissed—I’m fucking livid.

“What the hell, Dean? Why’d you pull me in here then?” She tugs her hands free and folds her arms in front of her boobs in a calculated move to get me to look at them. I’ve seen it a thousand times but my eyes don’t even flicker from hers.

“Leave Cas alone,” I growl, crossing my own arms. She laughs—actually, full-on _laughs_ at me.

“Seriously? Leave him alone like you do, right? It’s just a bit of fun. And what’s with the nickname? You two buddies now?” I shoot daggers at her, taking a threatening step forward.

“I don’t fucking molest him! What you did to him is sexual assault. What if he talks? Do you know how much shit you’d be in?” She softens a little when I make it about protecting her, just like I knew she would.

“He’s not going to talk,” she mumbles, but she’s unsure now—her shoulders curl in a bit. The tension in my muscles eases a bit.

“He could, Lisa. Getting knocked around a bit is one thing, but…” I trail off, letting her fill in the blanks for herself. I shrug, picking up my bag from where it fell when Lisa threw herself at me. “I’ve gotta get to class.” I leave her in there, hoping like hell that that’s the last of it, but almost definitely knowing it’s not.

And it’s Cas who’ll pay for it, not me.

 

**_December 6, 2018_ **

_DEAN_

By the time I filled out the paperwork at the pound last night, I was exhausted, but I still needed a shitload of things so Amelia made me a list and told me to call her if I had any questions. She said not to bother calling the pound because she’s taking the day off, giving me her personal number instead.

The cat hardly even makes a sound in her cage, staring up at me with her wide blue eyes from behind the bars. She doesn’t even purr when I scratch behind her ears.

I set up her litter box and food bowl before opening her cage door, but she just sits in there quietly. Damn, she’s a weird cat.

I watch her for a few minutes, perplexed by this odd animal, but ultimately I put it down to travel exhaustion—the pound _is_ across town—and fall into my own bed after setting my alarm.

When I leave for work just before midnight, she’s still in her cage. Not asleep but not in any hurry to do anything. I shrug, deciding to leave it open. What harm can she really do anyway?

 

“You _what_?” I roll my eyes at Benny as I re-roll the fire hose, smirking a little at his gaping mouth. “But…you _hate_ cats.—despise them.”

I shrug, handing him the rolled up hose before moving on to the next one. “This one’s different. She’s…strange. Didn’t move from her cage at all. She might be a little slow actually.” I shrug again, just imagining the look on Cas’s face when I tell him.

“I think it’s you that’s a little slow, brother,” Benny mumbles under his breath. I’m just about to make a snide comment when I’m cut off by the loud whirring of the siren.

“Suit up!” I shout, running for my gear and throwing it on as the dispatcher's voice comes over the speakers. We jump in the trucks and head across town with the sirens blaring. I glance over at Benny and return his grin. I love this feeling—doing this job is difficult but so fucking rewarding—there’s nothing in the entire world quite like it.

We’re the first station on the scene, meaning we run the show. I check the time—five minutes and fourteen second response time. Damn, we’re good.

It’s not a very big house but it’s two stories and flames engulf the entire east side. We’re informed by the babysitter that there are a couple children inside and I grab the arm of a rookie, pulling him with me. “Two kids, second floor. One on the west side, the other on the east side. You go west.” He nods and I slap his shoulder before following him in. I prefer taking Benny in with me but these kids need to be tested and this is the best way to do it.

We get the kids out without a hitch and their parents thank us profusely. The rookie—Aaron, I think his name is—eats it up and I just take it all in stride. This is why I do this; to see the joy and relief on the faces of those I’ve saved.

 

I pull into my driveway shortly after noon, practically sleepwalking to the front door. Stepping inside, I don’ t even have to look farther than the end of my shoes for my eyes to widen and my heart to sink to the floor. “Son of a bitch,” I breath, my eyes traveling over the war zone in my living room.

Papers and picture and pillows—everywhere—shredded on the floor and knocked off the shelves. I run to the cage and there’s that _fucking_ cat, asleep inside.

I almost leave the mess in favor of my bed, but I can’t or it’ll never get cleaned up. I rush around with a garbage bag, scooping up every shred of paper I can get my hands on, but it’s _everywhere_. I didn’t even know I _had_ this much paper.

My arms are loaded with garbage when the doorbell rings and I glance, wide-eyed, at it. “Come in! Jesus fucking Christ, get off the curtains!” I shout when I glance up and see the little menace literally _hanging_ from the top of my curtains. I drop the paper in my rush to get her down, pulling her into my arms where she snuggles in like that’s the only thing she ever wanted. I glare at her as my front door opens.

“Who are you talking—holy guacamole!” Charlie doesn’t even take in the mess—she’s so focused on the little ball of evil in my arms. “When did you get a cat?” She coos as she approaches, holding her arms out for me to unceremoniously dump the little shit in them. “Dean! Be careful with her! Oh, you’re such a sweetheart! Yes, you are.”

“Have you seen my home?” I shout, throwing my arms out to my sides. She waves a dismissive hand at me.

“Yeah, whatever. What’s her name?”

I ignore her question as I continue cleaning, mumbling under my breath as I do. “Like fucking Hurricane Katrina for Christ’s sake.”

“Katrina!” She coos, thinking that’s her name.

I snort. “Kat for short. Cas’ll just love that.” Shit, I’ve gotta call Cas.

I look up at Charlie. “Why’re you here, anyway?”

She pauses her kissing assault on Kat and shoots me a withering look. “Seriously? You don’t remember?” I shake my head and dread her next words. “Wedding planning! You said you’d help!”

“When the hell did I agree to that?”

“Thanksgiving dinner.” She grins, knowing I was way too drunk to remember anything. “You’ll agree to just about anything with a little whiskey in your belly.”

I nod, not really paying attention to her anymore when I notice a voicemail from Cas from about an hour ago. Opening it up, I put in my voicemail passcode and hold the phone to my ear.

“Um…hey, Dean, it’s Cas. I guess you would already know that.” He laughs nervously and I grin. “ I…uh—I’ve been thinking about that cat. You know, the black one? Anyway, I’m going to adopt her and I wanted to know if you would like to come along? Shit, you’re working. Never mind. I’ll just…go by myself. Okay, well…goodbye.”

“Shit, shit, shit!” I mumble, slamming the redial button only for the screen to go dark. “Fuck!” Charlie looks up at me from where she’s situated herself on my couch, only bothering to push the mess aside to make room.

I freeze when there’s a soft knock on the door, knowing who it must be without having to open it. It’s been about an hour since he called—enough time to get to the pound and then here. I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. It’ll all be all right.

I open the door to a very distraught Cas. His eyes brim with tears and his bottom lips quivers just enough for me to see. My heart drops to the floor.

“She said a few days, Dean. A _few days_. I—I went back for her but…” His voice catches and I drag him into me as the first tear falls. “She’s _gone_ , Dean.” The sob that rips from him is the most awful sound—like a wounded animal.

I push him back so he’s at arm's length and cup his cheeks, wiping away his tears with the pads of my thumbs. “It’s okay—”

“No! It’s _not_ okay! I was too late!” He bats my hands away as he glares at me. “She had a couple o days left but she’s _gone!_ ”

“Dean, what’s happening out there?” Charlie asks, rounding the corner with the source of Cas’s distress curled up in her arms.

Cas doesn’t make a sound and I watch him nervously as he watches the cat. “But…but you don’t even like cats.” His eyes turn on me, wide and confused. I shrug—he’s right—I don’t—but something about _this_ cat. The big blue eyes, probably. “When…?”

“After I dropped you off yesterday.”

He nods absently, taking the cat from Charlie and burying his nose in her fur. She snuggles into him and he finally gets a purr out of her. I smile—of course, it’d be Cas she likes the most. “Hey, beautiful…what did your new daddy name you?” He glances back at me and I grin.

“Kat.” Cas’s eyes narrow. “No, but like the hurricane.”

“There’s no hurricane named Cat, Dean.” I throw my head back and laugh, reveling in the tiny grin tugging at Cas’s lips.

“Hurricane Katrina because of what she did to my house when I was at work.” Cas looks around for the first time, noticing the mess that Charlie has busied herself with.

Cas just smiles down at the little shit, scratching behind her ears. “Look at those big, innocent eyes. Moon eyes…maybe that’s what we’ll call you.”

“You’re not naming our cat Moon Moon. No way—Vetoed.” Cas looks at me like I’m stupid before looking back at the fur ball in his arms and tilting his head at her.

“Luna,” he whispers, kissing the top her head before holding her out to me. I turn my nose up at her but take her anyway, grinning when Cas slaps my arm.

“Luna…if you ever pull that shit again, you’ll find yourself permanently in a bachelor apartment above a flower shop.” I set her down and glance back at Cas—at his grinning face…his dancing eyes. At his lips.

At his hands, pressing me into the wall.

Then nothing at all as my eyes close and his lips brush mine.


	12. Bang Bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi. Here's another chapter. I hope you like it. Let me know in the comments. (Honestly, though, even the smallest comment makes my day.)

****

**_October 28, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

“C’mon, Cas, just one hint!” The ghost of a smile on my face only eggs Dean on as I read his paper. I press my lips together as he ducks his head, resting his cheek on the table to try and catch my downcast eyes. I glance up—I can’t help it—meeting his too green eyes that dance with mischief. “Just a little one?” He puts his finger and thumb up, the gap between them only about an inch wide. “Like, this big?” My heart flutters when he bats his eyelashes, knowing full well that they’re almost impossible to resist.

I shake my head though, turning back to the pages in front of me as he huffs. I chew on the end of my pen, blocking out Dean’s indignant little sounds and refocussing on the words in front of me.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he says, snatching the pen from my hand.

“Hey!” I reach across the table for it, jumping up and down as he toys with me; bringing it closer only to pull it away from me again. I glower at him, growling in frustration and sitting back down. He thinks he’s just _so_ clever. “That’s not much of a trade; I already know what you’re going as.”

“How?” His shock is laughable.

“You wear the same costume every year.” I roll my eyes, my heart skipping half a beat when I meet his gaze again. He’s just watching me, his smile is warm and his eyes are soft.

He laughs under his breath and shakes his head. “Only _you_ would pay attention to something like that.”

“It’s fairly difficult to forget the entire Justice League of America stuffing you into lockers and running you up the flagpole, wouldn’t you think, Batman?” I say, an edge to my voice that wasn’t there before as bitterness creeps in past the playfulness. I take my pen back and redouble my efforts to get through more than a paragraph as a lump rises in my throat. Dean is silent, letting me work for a solid ten minutes.

“What if you went as…I don’t know—a cat? That’s pretty simple, right? I mean, if you don’t already have a costume…” He raises an eyebrow as a small grin tugs at his lips. I go along with it, letting him lighten the mood a little.

“I wasn’t aware that I was required to wear one at all.” Dean’s jaw drops a little and he moves a hand over his heart.

“What kind of person doesn’t wear a costume on Halloween? Are you a serial killer? Maybe a psychopath?” He scratches his chin in mock contemplation. “Maybe you can make that a costume; you already have the crazy hair and lunatic glasses.” I kick his shin under the table and he laughs.

“Maybe I’ll just go as myself. My life is already a joke, so it could work. Or perhaps a trashcan, since I’m as worthless as trash.” The smile falls from my face. It was supposed to be funny but the truth of it hits hard. I _am_ worthless. No one would notice if I disappeared. I guess jokes really aren’t funny when they’re true.

I glance up at Dean and he’s _mad—t_ he blistering glare on his face reveals as much. “Don’t fucking say shit like that,” he growls and I shrink away.

“I—”

“I mean it, Cas. You’re not _nothing_ …you—” He cuts himself off, running his fingers through his hair before locking his eyes back on mine, imploring me to believe him. “You _matter_ , Cas. You matter to _me_.”

I swallow thickly, trying so hard to believe him—to believe his words are true and that I’m not just a waste of space taking up valuable oxygen—a waste of a human being. I _try_ …

I tear my eyes from him, looking at the paper but not really seeing it. Dean sighs but doesn’t push the issue. It’s a few minutes before I’ve gathered myself enough to actually read his essay, going over it line by line and just barely putting them together enough to grasp the meaning. He takes out his phone, focussing intently on whatever’s on his screen.

Dean leaves not long after that, saying something about extra practice time before he runs out the door. I hardly notice how weird it is, too focussed on his words from before.

_You matter to me._

Do I really, though? So many years of being told I’m worthless—unloved and unwanted—makes it almost impossible to trust anything different.

_You matter to me._

What does he even mean by that? Like a tutor? A friend? It must be more than that—you don’t do the things Dean does to me with a friend. But what, then? He doesn’t…love…me. He can’t. I slam the door on that thought immediately. It’s too much to hope for—too good to be true.

I swallow hard, feeling my heart pound in my chest as I pull out my phone and find Dean’s number. I close my eyes, counting to three before finding the bee emoji and hitting send before I can talk myself out of it.

He doesn’t respond.

 

**_December 7, 2018_ **

“You seem to be in a good mood today,” Dr. Barnes says when I sit down in the corner of the leather sofa. My smile widens a little and I just shrug, too busy thinking about the source of my smile. “Might I ask _why_ you’re smiling like that?”

I lick my lips and sit up straighter, almost giddy with excitement. “I—um…I kissed him. I kissed Dean.” I grin just thinking about it.

“Ah.” She writes something down. “So this kiss…who initiated it? Him or you?” She crosses one leg over the other.

“I did,” I say, inexplicably proud of myself when she smiles.

“Might I ask what prompted it?” She tilts her head and I blush a little, sitting up straighter as she watches me with keen eyes.

“Well…” I search for the reason but come up with nothing that fully encompasses my thoughts at the time. _He bought a cat_ sounds ridiculous even to me, and, besides, that’s not the reason I did it. It wasn’t the cat as much as it was the meaning behind her. The _reason_ he adopted Luna. Not _for_ me, per se, but _because_ of me. He did it because he wanted to, but also because he knew I couldn’t let her die. “I wanted to—he made me happy.” I smile just thinking about him.

“But _how_ , Castiel?”

“That’s kind of a story in itself,” I say, getting comfortable on the uncomfortable sofa. “We went to the pound the other day—I was trying to get him to remember it—and there was this cat. I guess you could say she had _outstayed her welcome_.” I use my fingers to put air quotes around the last three words. “I was pretty upset about it and I guess Dean went back to the pound after dropping me at home and adopted her.”

She's quiet for a minute as she jots down another note before folding her hands on her lap and looking at me with steady, judgment-free eyes. “Would you say that kissing Dean was a reward of sorts? Something you felt obligated to give as a thank you?”

My head shoots back on my neck as my face screws up in shock. “Why the hell would you think that?”

She gives me a patient smile. “Sometimes, in cases where physical abuse was a regular part of a person’s life for an extended period of time, they grow to believe that their body is not there own and that it is simply there to be used and abused as the abuser sees fit. It is more common in cases of sexual slavery and rape victims, but can also appear in cases of violence, similar to yours.”

I recoil both physically and mentally, my walls going up so fast that my head spins and I have to swallow hard to keep my lunch down. I close my eyes tight, breathing deeply through the memories—through the horrors of my past.

Eventually, they pass and I open my eyes to see her curious gaze trained on me. I ignore her the best I can, digging my nails into the scar on one of my wrists. “No.” I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t that. I did it because _I_ wanted to.” I nod once—sharply—and leave it at that.

She nods, looking down at her notes before speaking. “I just have one more question for you before we move on. You don’t have to answer it right now—you don’t even have to tell me today—but I would like for you to think about it.” I nod, sitting forward and clasping my hands in front of me. “What do you want to happen next?”

 

“Cas. Cas!” I’m pulled from sleep by my whispered name, only half registering that I’m in my own apartment.

“What!” I groan, drawing out the word and burying my head in my pillow, doing my best to block out the other voice. It takes me a moment to realize that there is, in fact, another voice. In my locked apartment. Where I live alone.

I shoot up, my heart leaping into my throat as I plaster myself to the wall. It’s too dark to really see, but there’s a thud and then the shape of someone moving just on the edge of my bed.

“Dammit, Cas! Don’t do that!” _Is that…?_

“Dean?” There’s shuffling, and a whole lot of cursing, before the overhead light flicks on to reveal a disheveled and grumpy Dean Winchester with a cat carrier on the floor by his feet. “What are you doing here?” I ask, propping myself up on one elbow while rubbing my eyes with the other hand. “And how did you get in?” But he’s not listening as he unlaces his shoes and kicks them off before tossing his jacket in the corner.

“I’ve been picking locks since I was six years old—yours aren’t that hard. Scoot over.” I shuffle closer to the wall without really thinking about it and Dean crawls in beside me, pulling the blanket over him before sitting up again to tug his shirt over his head, tossing it across the room to join his jacket in the corner. He resettles, snuggling into my pillow as I stare at him.

“Okay, but _why?_ ”

“Nightmare,” he says without any further explanation and I don’t even get a chance to ask before he’s out cold.

I sigh, getting up to turn off the light before climbing back in between Dean and the wall. He’s snoring softly already, a strand of hair hanging over his eyes made visible by the soft glow of my alarm clock. 2:17 AM. I frown, closing my eyes to the dark room. Dean still has nightmares? I would have thought they disappeared with his memories. Maybe they did at first, but he _does_ have the majority of them back—just not his memories of our high school years. Memories of me.

I drift in and out of sleep, not used to another body beside me but not opposed to the idea, either. Dean’s heat keeps me warm all night so I don’t have to pull out another blanket.

I curl into him, too tired to do anything other than exactly what I want to do.

 

The arms around me squeeze tight in sync with a sharp inhale. There’s a face in my neck—a nose pressed into my skin. A soft sigh.

I wiggle a little, too hot and uncomfortable to lay like this for too long. Dean groans in protest, tightening his arms and wrapping his legs around me, too. “Stop moving—I’m comfy.” I roll my eyes, and lay still for a little longer, secretly loving every minute of this but knowing I should be getting ready for work.

My alarm blares and I smirk when Dean yells. With one arm and both his legs still holding me hostage, he rolls over and swipes at the clock, sending it flying across the room where it continues to shriek.

“Batteries,” I whisper, laughing when Dean pulls a pillow over his head and struggles to get comfortable again. “I need to get ready for work,” I say, trying to reason with him, but it’s no use. He’s an angry sleeper; like a bear.

“No—I’m comfy.”

I chuckle. “No, you’re not. You’re _pretending_ to be content.” He only huffs in response but releases me anyway. I roll off the bed and walk over to the door where my clock sits, picking it up and turning it off before Dean throws another fit.

I shower quickly, sneaking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist and grabbing my clothes before hurrying back to the bathroom to change.

I step out a few minutes later, dressed in my black and yellow striped work shirt and dark jeans. Dean is still sleeping and I only now realize that there’s a cat carrier in the middle of my floor. I grin, opening the cage to let Luna out. She rubs herself against me as she emerges, purring softly as I stroke her shiny coat.

“Hello, sweet girl. Did daddy bring you any food?” I look around, not seeing anything but Dean’s discarded clothes and the cat carrier. I roll my eyes while grabbing my phone and shooting Alfie a text to pick up some much-needed cat supplies. “I’ll take care of you.” I kiss the top of her head, loving the way she leans into me, and head for the kitchen, making myself a piece of toast with peanut butter and a pot of coffee.

Leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, I watch Dean sleep. His wild hair sticks out in all directions, some strands falling over his eyes while others stick straight up. He’s on his stomach with one arm under the pillow and the other tucked under his cheek. The sun streaming through the window highlights his freckles and I can’t help but admire just how beautiful he is—how beautiful he has always been.

I leave him there, scooping Luna up under one arm while holding my coffee in the other hand. She doesn’t struggle but it’s still difficult trying to unlock the door.

“Cas?” Dean’s sleepy voice reaches me from the other side of the room when I drop my keys. He sits up, rubbing his eyes and propping himself up on his elbows, his naked chest on full display. “Where’re ya going?”

“I need to open the store,” I say, bending to pick up my keys and spilling a drop of my coffee. I set Luna down, flipping the deadbolts and undoing the chains.

“Oh…okay.” He lays back down and closes his eyes. Every part of me wants to crawl back in next to him, but I pick Luna up and head downstairs instead, locking the door behind me.

 

Luna is in her element. She lays quietly on the counter as I work, rolled over on her back so customers can rub her belly. She past out right there after a good meal out of her new food bowl that Alfie so graciously picked out, and hasn’t moved since.

It’s around lunchtime when Dean finally makes an appearance, coming through the back door with a plate in each hand. I laugh when I see how he’s dressed—exactly like me.

“What? Didn’t want to ruin the vibe you’ve got going on here with my Zep t-shirt and sweats.” He grins, walking past me and giving me an excellent view of his ass in my jeans—which are a little snug on him, but I’m not complaining. “Hope you’re not too hungry. All you’ve got up there is PB&J.”

My stomach rumbles and heat rushes to my cheeks as I take one of the sandwiches, biting into the soft bread and closing my eyes on a moan. The combination of peanut butter and jam might be my favorite thing in the whole world. Well…second favorite thing—Dean, in my jeans, petting Luna, takes first place.

I send Alfie out for his lunch, leaving Dean and me alone in the store. I lean against the back wall while he leans back against the counter, our toes pressed together in the narrow space as we eat in silence.

I nudge his toe with mine when we’re finished and he glances up at me. “I’ve been wondering all day…” Dean’s expression changes—he knows what’s coming.

“About the nightmare? It was nothing.” He shrugs, glancing away with a look in his eyes that tells me it most assuredly was _not_ nothing.

“You can tell me, you know?” I say softly, tilting my head as I try to catch his eyes. He avoids them, looking down at our toes instead.

“It was _nothing_. I don’t ask you about every nightmare you have—Jesus,” he snaps, straitening up and turning away from me to brace his arms on the counter, looking out at the sea of flowers.

“Okay…but I don’t go over to your house every time I have a nightmare.” I step forward, leaning my hip against the counter to look at his side profile. His eyes are trained on the countertop, his jaw set as he grinds his teeth.

He throws his hands up with a growl and turns to face me as it explodes from him in a rush of breath. “It was about you, okay? You were _dead_. Drowned. Blue lips, pale skin, lifeless eyes—the whole fucking Nine.” Maybe it’s the look in his eyes—the pain. Guilt and shame. Maybe the way he’s cringing as he says the words, but I know. It’s not _just_ a nightmare—it’s a memory. Mostly, anyway.

“Dean—”

“You were _drowning_ and I _didn’t_ save you. Not _couldn’t_ — _didn’t_. I let you drown, only pulling you up when I knew you were dead.” He swallows hard, only meeting my eyes for a moment before glancing away. “It was so horrible, Cas. I wanted to save you but my body wouldn’t move. I couldn’t make it _move_.”

I place a hand on his shoulder and take a step closer. “Dean—” The front door flies open and we both jump as a brunette with wild eyes and a bloody lip scrambles into my otherwise empty store. She runs to the back, knocking over arrangements and sending flowers everywhere. I shout my displeasure, hurrying over to the mess and setting it right as she disappears into the office.

I don’t have time to do much more than pick up the stray peonies before the door flies open again, the bell dinging overhead as the door hits the wall and a short, round man dressed in an all black suit walks through with an ominous smirk.

“You wouldn’t’ve happened to see a pretty little lady run by lately, would you fellas?” His British accent grates on my ears as his beady eyes pin me to the spot.

“Wouldn’t tell you if we had,” Dean snarls, but it’s too late.

He takes in the mess I’m cleaning and his grin grows, revealing straight, white teeth. “Hmm…something tells me she’s closer than I’d anticipated. Isn’t that right, boy?”

 

_DEAN_

I watch as Cas’s eyes widen and he takes a step back as the man advances with slow, calculated steps.

“I’m willing to bet she came through that door, all in a hurry, and knocked over all your pretty little pansies.”

“Peonies,” Cas corrects and I huff.

“Ah, yes. Peonies.” Before I can blink, the barrel of a gun is pressed to Cas’s forehead. My blood turns to ice as I watch Cas’s pretty blue eyes widen with terror. “Where’s the girl,” he snarls as three more men come through the door.

My heart races as I scramble for my phone, dropping it in my rush to pull it from my pocket.

“Don’t even try it,” a voice growls from behind me as the cold ring of his gun presses into my temple. I swallow audibly as I stand back up, meeting Cas’s eyes from across the room. Wide, terrified eyes. “Don’t move or I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”

“Search the back rooms,” the one that seems to be in charge says, his eyes never leaving Cas as the other two men charge passed, knocking over more flowers in their rush. I shift my stance slightly and suddenly there’s a hand around my neck, squeezing so tight, I gasp for air.

“I said, _don’t_ _move_.” His foul breath ghosts across my ear in a low growl. He doesn’t let up the pressure on my throat until spots dance in front of my eyes. I close them and focus on pulling in what little air I can.

 _Bang_.

“Cas!” I choke out, my eyes flying open as the hand constricts again. I can’t see him. I search frantically but _I can’t see him_. “Cas! No, no, _no, Cas!_ ” The bastard still stands in the same spot, gun pointed low, with a smirk on his face. “You son of a bitch! I’ll fucking _kill_ you!” I spit, not moving a muscle, but fuming all the same as my heart sinks to the floor. _Cas…_

I can’t see him and I don’t hear him—he never made a sound. Tears well in my eyes as my gut churns, everything inside me rejecting the idea that Cas is…that he’s…

“Crowley, sir, we’ve cornered her out back.” He doesn’t move for a moment, never looking away from the floor. After a bit, he pulls up his gun before looking at me. He winks and a shiver creeps down my spine.

He doesn’t say anything before turning around and walking out. The one behind me takes a step back and the gun leaves my skin. Suddenly, pain explodes in my head and I collapse where I stand as blood gushes out. More shots ring out. _Bang, bang, bang_.

The last thing I see is Luna’s blue blue eyes and my own blood pooling on the floor.

Everything goes black.


	13. I Want This And I Want It With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sigh* I don't know how I feel about this one (there's always a few that you just aren't feeling, am I right or am I right?) Anyway, tell me all your thoughts in the comments. I love them all.

**_October 29, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

I tug self-consciously at my black and yellow striped sweater, feeling eyes on me that aren’t really there as my antenna headband bobs up and down. _It’s Halloween_. I have to keep reminding myself that this is normal. Everyone is dressed up in far more ridiculous outfits than me—I’m not even wearing a stinger for crying out loud.

But still, shivers creep up my spine as I walk from class to class, and my blood practically turns to ice when the Justice League of America barrels down the hall—sans Batman—but for once, they don’t even notice me; too caught up in pretending to be heroes for the day. I’d laugh if it wasn’t so…just… _not_ funny.

I try to ignore the feeling creeping inside me—try to push it away and shove it down, but it’s almost impossible with this thing on. Everyone’s looking. Everyone’s judging. Everyone’s making fun of me.

I’ve already decided I’m not going to the assembly at the end of the day. I’d rather spend that time in the greenhouse, tending to my flowers for the gardening club than endure the hour of smelly, sweaty, noisy bodies stuffed inside like a can of sardines.

Stepping inside my English class, I feel every set of eyes on me as I hurry to my seat. I know no one’s paying attention to me—too busy talking and laughing at each _other’s_ costumes—but I feel them anyway.

I try to look around the room without _actually_ looking around the room but I don’t see Dean anywhere. _Is he sick? Am I just not seeing him?_

There’s a commotion in the doorway and I look up as everyone laughs and my eyes widen because there’s a giant _sunflower_ standing in the doorway. _I guess Batman quit the Justice League, then?_

Dean stands in the doorway in all green, his face painted black, with a ring of large yellow petals around his face. My smile grows so wide it hurts as I watch him. Everyone is staring at him, but he’s only looking at me.

He tilts his head and I bite my lip to contain my grin, looking down at my desk instead of his eyes as my heart skips a beat. _He got the hint, then_.

A small part of my broken heart heals a little bit with that head tilt. My heart skips a beat with the grin. I think I might just love him a little bit…yeah, definitely a little bit.

 

**_December 8, 2018_ **

_DEAN_

_“Please, stop,” Cas whispers from where he lays on the cold tile, bruised and bloody. A thrill runs through me seeing him like that—weak. Helpless—I did this. Not my dad._ Me. No one can hurt me anymore. _I lash out again, feeling the anger and pain being purged from my body—temporarily, at least. It’ll come back—it always comes back._

_Cas jerks away from me, curling into the fetal position as I bring my foot back again. He cringes, his face contorting in pain as I connect with his ribs. Air whooshes from his lungs and I smile._

 

The memory fades as a new one passes through…

 

_“Don’t you want it, Fag?” Lucas taunts as he shoves Cas’s face into his crotch. My stomach turns and I have to look away. This is wrong. It’s wrong. Cas doesn’t make a sound as he squeezes his eyes shut and clamps his jaw closed. He doesn’t fight it but he doesn’t give in either. The guys laugh as Raph undoes Cas’s jeans, shoving his hand down the front._

_Knocking him around a bit is one thing, but this? This…I want no part of this._

_A tear falls from Cas’s eye, not even making it halfway down his face before Lucas grips his face in his big hands and pries his jaw open. He undoes his jeans and I close my eyes. I’m going to be sick…_

 

_“You’ve never been here? Really?” Cas smiles shyly as he shakes his head from the passenger’s side of my car. I look out the window at the forest surrounding us on three sides—a small lake stretching out in front of us._

_I take his hand in mine, pulling him across the seat and kissing him quickly before getting out. I ignore his startled face as he follows behind me. “Is this where you take all your dates?”_

_“This isn’t a date,” I retort, not looking back at him as I walk to the edge of the water. I can’t look at him because I know what I’ll see. I can’t look at his pain right now. “And I’ve never taken anyone here,” I say to lighten the blow of my previous words._

_“It’s beautiful.” I swallow hard to push back my own sadness. This is supposed to be fun. Before Cas knows I’ve moved, my hands are in his hair and my lips are on his. My mouth swallows the startled yelp before it can leave him as I lower us to the ground._

_This is all I can ever have of Cas—I know that—but I’ll be damned if I don’t have it as often as I can before I lose him. Cas doesn’t complain._

The memories come in at breakneck speed. Some good—soft and sweet—but mostly the awful things I did to Cas. The horrible, cruel treatment I, and so many others put him through. My head throbs from the outside, in, and the inside, out. I push the memories away. I can’t deal with them now. It’s too much—it’s all just… _too much._

 

_CASTIEL_

Is this an earthquake? This _must_ be an earthquake. Everything’s a mess. Everything’s shaking. No. No, it’s _me_ that’s shaking. Trembling. Broken glass all around me spread out in piles from where I sit on the floor in a puddle. _My flowers. All my beautiful flowers_.

There’s no one around. Not even Dean. _Bang, bang, bang._ The gunshots echo in my ears and my heart sinks. _Dean._

_What a mess. What a horrible mess._

I crawl on my hands and knees to where I last saw Dean, not even registering the broken glass shredding my jeans or digging into the flesh of my palms—a trail of blood left behind.

Every move forward spikes my heart rate. Every breath comes a little harder. I round the corner of the counter and there he is. Blood. So much _blood_. He’s dead—he _has_ to be dead. There’s too much _blood_. It gushes from the side of his head and across his face. Something claws at my heart—dark and painful. It swells in my chest and rips open my stomach, leaving a gaping hole for everything to fall out of.

I don’t hear myself screaming. Neither does Dean.

 

_SAM_

“Aww, Samantha, are you gonna buy me flowers?” I roll my eyes at Gabe, shoving his shoulder a little as I get out of the car just down the street from Castiel’s shop.

“Shut up,” I say, even though I’m seriously considering buying him flowers. Just…maybe not from his brother. I laugh when he rolls his eyes but it dies off when I hear something. Is that…?

“You know you want to,” he sing-songs but I don’t respond as I tilt my head. We’re almost in front of the flower shop now. “What’s the matter, Samquatch, cat got your—”

“No, seriously, shut up for a minute.” He clamps his mouth shut. “Do you hear that?” He stops walking, concentrating hard before his eyes go wide and he bolts away. I chase after him, catching him just outside the store. “You can’t just run in there!”

He tugs his arm away. “That’s my baby brother, Sam,” is all he says before bursting through the door, leaving me on the front step.

I follow close behind, jerking to a stop when I see the trail of blood and glass. The screaming has turned into sobs but I don’t see where they’re coming from. Gabe is on the phone, one hand over his mouth as he squeezes his eyes shut.

I almost don’t want to move. I want to stay in this in-between—knowing and not knowing. They say ignorance is bliss…well, I think, whoever _they_ are, is right.

But I have to see, so I take slow steps forward, even when Gabe tries to hold me back. I _need_ to see. And when I do, everything falls apart.

I drop to my knees beside my unconscious brother. Castiel has entangled himself inside Dean’s limp arms, burying his face in his bloodstained shirt. He’s shaking—trembling and jerking as tears pour from his eyes. His heartbreak is palpable and it meshes with my own as tears well in my eyes. He looks dead, but blood still gushes from the open gash on his face so I know he’s not. Not _yet_ , anyway.

“The ambulance is on its way.” I nod absently as the bell above the door chimes but I don’t turn to see who it is.

“Uh…what’s going on?”

“You work here?” Gabe asks from behind me.

“Yeah…”

“Go home.” The kid doesn’t protest as he hurries to the back to grab his stuff before leaving, the bell signaling his exit.

It feels like a lifetime has passed before the ambulance comes and paramedics rush in. They have a hell of a time trying to tear Castiel away from Dean but they manage…eventually. All the while I just watch as my brother—my big, strong, invincible brother—is carted away, looking almost as fragile as he did after the accident. It’s like déjà vu. 

I jump in the back of the ambulance with Dean, unable to let him out of my sight for even a moment as silent tears fall. Castiel and Gabe ride in the other ambulance so they can make sure Castiel is okay. We pull away before they do and I watch helplessly as the paramedics assess and treat Dean.

I wait not-so-patiently in the waiting room after we arrive and they take Dean away on a stretcher. Gabe and Cas aren’t here yet so I pace the room, running my fingers through my hair as the seconds tick by like hours. He has to be okay. He _has_ to be. But a head injury…? _Another_ head injury? Who knows what that’ll do to him and I can’t…I just can’t—not without Dean.

I look up when there’s a commotion at the entrance. Two nurses and a paramedic block Castiel’s way as he tries to enter, and as I get closer, I immediately see why. In his arms is a black ball of fur curled up and not moving even as Cas loses it. Tears stream down his cheeks as he tries to push past.

“I need to get inside!”

“Sir…sir, you can’t bring a cat into a hospital—”

“I couldn’t leave her behind! Not with the glass everywhere. Please…I need to get inside.” I sigh in relief when Gabe comes up behind Cas, gripping his shoulders in a way that soothes him a little.

“I’ll take her, Cassie, you go see Dean.” Cas just nods, tears leaving trails down his cheeks as he hands over the ball of fur. She goes without a fuss.

“Sir, are you bleeding? May we do an exam?” I don’t hear what Cas says because a doctor calls Dean’s name.

“Yes! Yes, I’m with Dean,” I say, hurrying over to meet him with Cas right beside me.

“Dean has suffered a blow to his temple, which cut his face and caused all the bleeding. He was knocked unconscious. He does have a concussion and because of his previous head injury, we don’t know how it will affect his memory. It may not, but the chances are high…”

The doctor rambles on for a few more minutes before he leads us in to see Dean. There are a few tubes and wires attached to him but not nearly as many as the last time he was in here. I’ll take that as a good sign. His cheek is stitched up and bruised but other than that, he looks fine. My heart starts to slow down as I realize that—though serious—this isn’t life-threatening. Dean will live, but who knows what another head injury will do.

Cas sits in the chair on one side of the bed while I sit in the other. We’re silent for a few minutes as I watch Cas watch Dean. His eyes never waver from his face and I’d have to be blind to miss the love in their blue depths.

“What’s with the cat?” He blinks a few times before looking at me with a confused frown on his bloodstained face.

“What?”

“The cat? Why didn’t you leave her in your apartment?”

“She’s not my cat.” He looks back at Dean, taking his hand in one of his and running his fingers through Dean’s hair with the other.

I frown. “Whose cat is she then?”

“Dean’s.” My head jerks back on my neck.

“Dean doesn’t like cats. He doesn’t like animals in general, actually.” Cas’s soft smile leads me to believe there’s a story there. I don’t ask but he gives me a little clue.

“I know. He adopted her because of me.”

Cas lays his head beside Dean’s hand, taking it in both of his as he looks up at his passive face. So much has changed between the two of them since the last time I was here, and yet, so much has stayed the same.

Castiel loves Dean. Dean loves Castiel—it’s always been like that. Maybe this time they’ll even manage to let the other know.

 

_CASTIEL_

Something wet wipes at my cheek and I swat at it, not bothering to open my eyes or let go of Dean’s hand. It wipes again and I scowl as I swat again.

The third time, I open my eyes. “Would you mind?” I snap, frowning at the nurse with a washcloth in her hand. Her dark brown bob sways when she steps back and her eyes narrow. I look at her name tag—Tessa.

“You wash your face or I will. That’s how this is going to work, pretty boy.” She holds out the washcloth and I snatch it from her hands, scrubbing at the dried blood on my cheeks until they’re red for another reason. I hand her the cloth and she disappears.

“No need to snap at the nurses.” My eyes shoot to the head of the bed where green eyes smile at me through slitted lids. “Mind turning off the lights? I’ve got a bitch of a headache.” I do as he asks before hurrying to his side and taking his hand in mine. We’re alone in the room—Sam and Gabe having gone for food with Bobby and Ellen—so I take the opportunity to hold his hand in both of mine.

“Dean…” My eyes well with tears, choking off my words before I can get them out. Dean shifts slightly and tugs on my hand. I take the hint, crawling in beside him and resting my head on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around me. I breathe him in as the tears fall. “I thought you were dead," I whisper, clenching my fist in the hospital gown and burying my nose in his neck.

He chuckles. “You ain’t getting rid of me that easy.” I smile softly and sniffle, running my nose along his throat as he kisses the top of my head. We’re silent for a while and I almost doze off before he speaks again. “I thought you were dead, too, you know?” It’s barely a whisper but I hear it. It closes my throat and squeezes my heart. “I thought he shot you—that I lost you—but…” He exhales a shuddering breath. “But you’re here. You’re alive and you’re _here_ —” His voice chokes off and he swallows hard.

I drift off into sleep, lulled by the steady beat of Dean’s heart.

_Boom, boom, boom._

 

I wake slowly, feeling a warm body pressed against mine, my cheek firmly nestled into Dean’s neck. I don’t open my eyes, listening instead to him talking quietly with Sam and Gabe.

“What I want to know is why you let me wear a fucking flower costume for Halloween in senior year?” I hear Gabe’s shocked laughter as Sam chuckles.

“ _Let_ you? You _insisted_.” Dean jerks under me.

“What happened to my Batman costume?”

“You said it was too small.”

“Why didn’t I just get a new one?”

I hear Sam chuckle. “I don’t know. You said something about not being able to find one big enough to—and I quote— _contain these massive guns_.” I can hear the laughter in Sam’s voice as Dean shakes with it.

“Hell no!” Dean laughs, running a hand soothingly through my hair.

“Yeah…but if I remember correctly, Cas went as a bumblebee that year…” I don’t dare to move—not even _breathe_ —as I wait for Dean’s reaction.

“Cas never mentioned that,” he whispers and, if I opened my eyes, I know I’d see them all staring at me.

“He doesn’t like to talk about that stuff. I think it’s harder for him to remember the good things, honestly. There were just so few…” Gabe’s voice trails off and he sighs. He’s right, though. Thinking about the good times with Dean is infinitely more painful than the bad memories. I push the good away, forcing them down so I don’t drive myself crazy. That’s what made hating Dean so easy—I buried all the good.

I shift, opening my eyes slowly and taking a deep breath against Dean’s skin. His hand leaves my hair but I move it back only to flinch when I take his hand in mine, feeling the sharp sting in my palms. Dean takes one of my hands, examining the little cuts that mar the skin.

He frowns, pressing the call button before I can tell him I’m fine. The nurse rushes in, her eyes searching the room for any problems before she looks to Dean.

“Can someone come to take care of Cas’s hands?” He turns one around for her to see as I try to tug it away.

“I’m fine—”

“Let me grab a first-aid kit and I’ll be right back.” I sigh, scowling at Dean but he just grins and kisses my palm.

“We—uh…we’re going to head out. You know, things to do, people to see.” Gabe winks at me as Dean rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here.” Dean’s grin is wide and loopy—a product of the heavy painkillers he’s on—and throws up a _peace_ sign as Sam and Gabe leave. I can only roll my eyes as the nurse walks in with her first-aid kit, quickly cleaning and wrapping my hands before leaving us alone.

With a heavy sigh, I lay my head back down on Dean’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he runs his fingers through my hair.

“You good, Cas?” Dean whispers and I find I can’t answer for a minute. My throat is suddenly very tight as I realize that, no, I’m not okay. Nothing about today has been _okay_. But I will be—in time, I will be because Dean’s here. He’s alive and he’s here. So I nod and tilt my head back to see his dopey grin as his eyes search my face. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?”

A small grin tugs at my lips. “Yes. You did once.” His shocked expression pulls a laugh from me. “Although, I _was_ sucking your…uh… _you know_ ,” I blush as I point at his crotch. “So I think you would’ve said anything at the moment.”

“My _dick_. Come on, say it with me. While you were sucking my _dick_.” I groan, burying my face in his neck as my cheeks burn hotter. “Wow, for someone who—if I remember correctly—loved sucking my cock every chance he got, you’re pretty fucking shy.”

I jerk back, glaring at him with my mouth hanging open. “I did _not!_ ”

He laughs louder, throwing his head back as his eyes shine with mischief. “You did so! I remember!” He looks so sure of himself—and he should be because he’s right. Damn him and his stupid memories.

“Shut up.” I snap, getting off the bed to use the washroom.

“Oh, come on, Cas! Don’t be like that.” I grin as I walk away, closing the bathroom door behind me as I listen to Dean protest. I stand in front of the sink after I’m finished and stare at my bandaged hands. They’re not exactly _dirty_ …I look at myself in the mirror and my eyes widen as my heart thuds painfully, panic swelling inside me because…the blood. So much _blood_. My black and yellow shirt is stained with it and little, dried bits flake off my skin.

The panic attack hits me almost out of nowhere and I start ripping at my shirt, tearing it off and throwing it into the corner before I scrub at my skin, clawing at the stains and only causing fresh blood to leak out. Panicked sounds leave my mouth as I collapse into a corner, smearing the blood in an attempt to wipe it off.

 _Too much blood! Too much!_ I bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and holding on tight as my breaths come in short puffs. A weight settles on my chest and all I can see is Dean’s lifeless body lying in front of me. So much blood. He’s _dying_. Right in front of me. He’s _dying_. The weight presses down harder as someone bangs on the door.

It flies open just before the lack of oxygen gets to me and suddenly there are green eyes in front of mine. Alive. He’s alive.

My breaths come a little easier with every second that passes as Dean runs a hand through my hair and whispers softly in my ear. We stay like that for a few minutes as the attack slowly fades into the back of my mind.

“Where the hell did you go?” Dean’s head snaps around at the sound of the voice but he doesn’t answer, standing up instead to find a cloth and clean me off. He sways a little but he grabs onto the IV stand to balance himself and doesn’t slow down as he walks back to me, sitting on the floor beside me as he gently swipes at my neck and chest. It stings a little but not too bad.

The bathroom door swings open. “What are you doing? Get back in bed,” Tessa growls as Dean blatantly ignores her.

“Can you get Cas a shirt?”

“What?” She shakes her head in bewilderment. “Not until you get back into bed,” she snaps, planting her hands on her hips.

Dean’s face twists stubbornly. “Well, I’m not getting back into bed until you get Cas a shirt.” I almost laugh but Tessa is burning holes in the side of my head so I think better of it and keep my lips sealed tight.

She turns on her heel and leaves, muttering something about the psych ward as she goes. Dean helps me to my feet—well, tries to; I’m far more stable than he is right now—and we head out of the bathroom.

By the time Dean gets back into bed, he’s pale and sweaty from the effort, fighting against the urge to fall asleep as the drugs are pumped into him. His eyes droop as my shirt is delivered to me. Plain, light blue hospital scrubs.

“You might want to change your pants, too,” Tessa says, looking down at my bloodstained jeans. I wait until she leaves before looking back at Dean. His eyes are closed so I strip out of my jeans and pull on the scrub bottoms.

“Mmm…loving the show.” I jump, whipping around to see playful green eyes trained on me through drooping eyelids. A blush colors my cheeks and I look away.

“Move over,” I grumble, climbing in beside him and resting my ear over his heart while his fingers tangle in my hair. He’s alive. He’s here. We’re okay.

I don’t want to fight this anymore. After everything…I don’t want to fight him. Pamela’s words run through my mind on a loop. _What do you want to happen next?_ I want this. All of the time we lost together—all the love and happiness. I want it all and I want it with _Dean_.


	14. All I've Ever Wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyoooo! Here's another chapter. Please, please, please leave a comment. I love them. Absolutely adore them. So...yeah. Please let me know what you think.

**_November 5, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

“Castiel!” I shake my head, refocussing on my mom as she glares across the table at me. “Did you hear a word I just said?” I blink at her in answer. She sighs. “Did you get your applications in yet?”

“A few. I’m waiting on references.” My eyes drift across the crowded restaurant towards the reason for my delayed reference letter. I swallow hard as my stomach clenches. _I should have sat facing the other way_.

“Well, what’s the delay?” I sigh, tearing my eyes away from Dean and Cassie long enough to answer my mom. I don’t tell her the whole truth but part of it will do.

“The teacher wants to make sure his referral won’t be wasted so I’m tutoring a student for him.” She just nods, seeming satisfied with this answer. Our food arrives but I’m most certainly _not_ hungry anymore—not with the view I have down Cassie Robinson’s shirt. I feel sick to my stomach but I force down a few bites before pushing the plate away. No one questions it and I don’t offer up any explanation.

They don’t care.

Gabe plows through his food as Anna picks at hers, turning her nose up at every other bite but never pushing her plate away.

Mom doesn’t pay any attention to us as she sips her third glass of wine. Her nose is buried in her phone as she eats. My eyes drift back to Dean.

He’s laughing—his head thrown back and his eyes shining brightly in that way I love. It hurts to see him like this with someone else. I’m beginning to think everything about Dean Winchester hurts me.

After Gabe’s finished his meal, a waiter comes over carrying a huge slice of chocolate cake with a candle lit on top. Happy Birthday is sung loudly and out of tune as everyone turns to watch. My face burns as I sink down in my seat, cringing when Dean’s eyes meet mine. I try to look away but I can’t as the smile falls from his face.

I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering as I refocus on my brother, hoping like hell that this night ends soon so I can go home and try not to think about Dean with Cassie—about what happens when they leave the restaurant and go somewhere a little more private…

My stomach twists and I close my eyes to concentrate on not throwing up what little food I ate. I don’t look back at them for the rest of the night.

 

No one is home but me. Anna and Gabe went out with friends after dinner and since they aren’t home, Mom disappeared too, leaving me alone in the quiet house. I kick off my shoes and lock the door behind me, pulling out my phone and deciding to turn it off, not wanting to be tempted into texting Dean.

The weight of disappointment presses down on me as I climb the stairs, dragging my feet all the way down the hall to my room. I don’t bother turning on the light as I strip out of my clothes and climb under the covers, too emotionally exhausted to do anything but sleep. I don’t even manage to cry.

 

I’m only partially aware of my window sliding open. Awake enough to hear it, but not awake enough to register that it’s opening because someone is _opening_ it.

I shift a little, hugging my pillow tighter and rubbing my face against it as I moan. Strong arms wrap around me—familiar and warm. A small squeak escapes my lips as I wake more fully, my heart rate kicking up a notch.

“Shh, it’s okay. Go back to sleep.” The whispered words soothe my hurting heart as I melt into Dean’s arms and rest my ear over his heart to listen to it beat. He pulls the blanket over both of us before settling. I close my eyes as tears roll down my cheeks.

 

I wake up the next morning alone in my bed. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cold.

 

**_December 9, 2018_ **

_DEAN_

“Dean Winchester, you are an _idiot!_ A complete and utter _moron!_ ” I groan in pain as Charlie screeches at me, pacing around the room as she flails her arms. Jo watches on from the corner of the room, her arms crossed as she leans against the wall with a tiny smile on her lips.

“You _do know_ what a concussion is, right?” I hiss, covering my ears to block out her voice. She only huffs, placing her hands on her hips as she purses her lips at me.

“Why do you gotta be so reckless?”

I throw my hands out to my sides as I look at her with my best _what the fuck_ face. “I was helping Cas out at his store!” I glance at Jo for some backup but she just shrugs.

“Why don’t you go find us some coffee?” Jo smiles at Charlie, who glares briefly but doesn’t argue, leaving the two of us alone for a bit. Jo sits in the chair beside the bed. “So, what happened?”

I sigh, rolling my head back as she gets her serious face on. “Really? The cop face?”

“This is serious, Dean. You could’ve been killed. Like, actually, really _killed_.” I roll my eyes but I’m too damn tired to argue.

“So this girl ran into Cas’s store. Brown hair, bloody lip—whatever. She knocked over some flowers so Cas went to clean them up. Then this guy walked in asking about the girl that just ran through…” I swallow hard, my heart rate kicking up a notch just thinking about what happened next. “He pulled a gun on Cas and a few more guys came in—two searched the back room for her while one held me at gunpoint. They started firing off shots…I thought he shot Cas, and I just…” I shake my head, forcing down the memories as my hands start to shake.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. The guy…they called him Crowley.” Her eyes narrow at the name but she doesn’t comment, taking out a notebook instead and writing down everything I just told her.

“Would you be willing to say all that in front of a judge?” My head jerks back on my neck as my face screws up.

“What?”

“We’ve been trying to pin this guy for years but he’s a slippery bastard. This might be able to put him away.”

"I mean, I guess…”

“What about Cas? Do you think he would too?”

“Would I what?” Both our heads snap towards the door in unison to see Cas’s startled face as he glances between the two of us. There’s a bag of food in each of his hands and my mouth waters at the sight.

“Testify in front of a judge—tell them what happened to you.” Cas’s eyes widen and he looks to the floor as he approaches me, handing me one of the bags as he takes a seat in the chair. I frown at him but he’s not paying any attention to me.

“I—um…I don’t know. I guess so.” He doesn’t want to—I can tell by the catch in his voice and the way he shrugs his shoulders to play it off like it’s no big deal. It’s a really fucking big deal to him.

“You don’t have to, Cas. No one’s making you,” I tell him and I can practically see some of his tension melt away as he realizes he has a choice. He smiles a small smile at me.

No, I’ll do it.” He nods once, firmly, as if reaffirming it to himself. “Yeah, I’ll do it.” We talk about it for a few more minutes before Jo leaves us to our meal to find Charlie and head back to check on Luna.

I watch him for a few moments while he eats, noticing the tension in his shoulders and on his face. He won’t tell me, but I know he’s struggling. His demons are creeping in and it’s only a matter of time before they consume him. Cas is fragile—he always has been. He’s so incredibly strong—the strongest person I’ve ever met—but at the same time, he’s just so…fragile. He’s been worn down by years of abuse…no one can be strong for that long—no one. Everyone has their breaking point. The question is, has Cas reached his?

The thought spikes my heart rate and Cas’s eyes snap up to mine when he hears the monitor. I smile reassuringly, my heart racing for a whole new reason when his lips turn up in a shy smile.

We eat in silence, Cas finishing before me and taking my garbage to the trash before resettling in the seat next to the bed. He stares at his neatly clipped nails, picking at the skin around them and making them bleed. I grasp one of his hands in mine, squeezing his fingers lightly when his eyes meet mine.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cas says, anticipating my next words. I nod, stroking the side of his hand with my thumb.

“All right,” I smile, laying my head back on the pillow and looking at him from the corner of my eye. “If you could go anywhere—just one place in the entire world—where would you go?”

His face screws up a little in thought and he leans back in his chair. Suddenly, he sits up with a radiant smile—one that’s vaguely familiar…a far-off memory that hits a chord deep inside me. It catches me off guard for a moment, taking my breath before I refocus on Cas.

“Well…there’s these little towns in Massachusetts that I’ve always wanted to visit.” I frown at him, screwing my face up in abject horror.

“Seriously? Massachusetts?” He blushes and tries to pull his hand away but I don’t let him, holding on tight and giving it a small squeeze.

“Um, yeah…a lot of my favorite writers lived and worked in those towns. I want to see them and…well…experience it, I guess.” He shrugs, his blush deepening as he looks away. “I know it’s stupid…”

“We’ll go someday.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them and I cringe as embarrassment floods me. Shit. Why would Cas want to go with me? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But the grin on his face…that grin that sends shivers racing through me and flips something in my head…it’s there and it’s beautiful and it makes me want to offer him the whole world on a platter. I’d give him anything he asked for.

“Really?” He whispers and I nod, relishing in the pleased little grin on his face. It doesn’t leave for the rest of the afternoon. It’s there when the doctor comes to give me a final exam. It’s there when the discharge papers are signed. It’s there on the ride back to my place—I stare at it the whole way—and it’s still there as we walk up the driveway to my front door.

Cas closes the door behind me before following me into the living room. I sit in the corner of the couch, nestled into the pillows as Cas rushes around, getting me a glass of water and a blanket. I watch him with a bewildered look on my face.

“Cas.” He stops in his tracks and looks at me with wide eyes, a cookie sheet in one hand and a waffle iron in the other. “Put away the food and come sit with me.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” He holds up the objects in his hands.

“You aren’t my freaking servant; you don’t have to take care of me.” I pat the space next to me but still, he hesitates.

“But I want to take care of you,” he whispers and I think my heart melts to the floor. The soft smile that transforms my face seems to do something similar to him.

“Please come sit with me?” I whisper, holding my hand out for him to take. He empties his hands and slides his palm into mine, sitting a few inches away from me before I pull him in. The pain pills are already starting to take effect and I rest my head on Cas’s shoulder as _Dr. Sexy_ plays in the background. I think this might possibly be my favorite way to watch this show. Or any show. We wouldn’t even have to watch a show for me to love this.

Cas shifts us both so that he’s lying on his back with my head resting on his chest. It feels strange at first—some deep-rooted memory tells me that Cas should have his head on my chest—but the steady beat of his heart lulls me into a deep, semi-drug-induced sleep.

His hands stroke through my hair, instilling in me a sense of calm that I haven’t felt since…well, since before Mom died. I can’t help but smile in this moment, feeling more at home in Cas’s arms than I have anywhere in the world.

I drift in and out of consciousness and when I do finally wake fully, the TV is off and it’s dark outside. I lift my head, wincing when it starts to pound, and find Cas awake and staring at the ceiling.

“I called your work for you. They said to take all the time you need.” I smile up at him, briefly wondering if he wants me to get off of him before deciding that I don’t really care. I’m comfy. “Also, Charlie is taking care of Luna for a while and Ellen is making enough casseroles to feed the whole block.”

“You really would make the best boyfriend.” My face flames as soon as the words leave my mouth as a thought occurs to me. _Does Cas even want this?_ The thought that he might not, turns my stomach. I’ve never actually asked him and if we’re being honest, Cas is a pushover. He’ll put up with almost anything and not even make a peep of protest.

To make things worse still, Cas doesn’t reply and I can’t bring myself to look at him as I slowly get up. He follows me to my room, much to my surprise, and doesn’t even hesitate when I strip and crawl under the covers after taking my pain meds. But still…he’s never said that he _wants_ this and I can’t bring myself to ask right now. What if he says no? What if he leaves? I don’t think I could handle it.

Cas smiles softly at me when I lift my eyes to meet his. It’s a shy smile—hesitant and unsure. I try to return it but it only barely turns up my lips. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, as he closes his eyes, his smile only fading as he drifts into sleep.

It’s just past midnight when the screaming starts.

 

_CASTIEL_

_I cover my eyes but still, I can see. Through my fingers, there’s Dean, laying dead on the floor, blood gushing from the gaping hole in his temple. My throat is raw but I can’t hear my screams. I can’t hear anything, actually. It’s like I’m inside a glass case and everything is muffled._

_I can’t hear them. They can’t hear me._

_But there’s Dean—his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling, dead flowers and broken glass scattered on the floor. A man stands over him with a wicked smile and a gun. He glances up. Sees me. Points._

Bang.

I fight the arms holding me. Shaking me. I fight, my heart thundering in my chest. _Get off! Get off!_ The hands leave and the weight of the world presses down on my chest instead—suffocating. There’s not enough air in the world for me to breathe easy. I panic, thrashing my arms and legs as wet trails stream down my cheeks.

“ _Cas!_ ” Dean. That was _Dean_. I’m sure of it. I blink my eyes open as I struggle to pull air into my shriveled lungs and there he is. His green eyes shine with worry in the dark and I suddenly feel so much gratitude. Gratitude and relief and happiness and something else—something that swells in my chest when I see him—bubbles in my stomach when he’s near…lightens my heart when I think of him.

I settle completely and he falls back to the bed, laying on his side while I turn on mine, facing him as he faces me.

“Wanna talk about it?” Dean murmurs, his eyes drooping from exhaustion. I just shake my head, wanting only one thing in the entire world right now. A distraction—a reassurance, if you will.

Shifting closer to Dean, I feel his breath catch as I slide my arms around him, burying my head in his chest in the way I used to do and feel the comfort that only he’s ever brought me. He stiffens a little, his muscles locking up, and I pull away immediately, hurt and confused and sick to my stomach.

“I’m sorry,” I say, unable to meet his eyes as I move away, pulling the blanket up to my chin as my mind whirls. What changed since we got home? Did I do something wrong?

“Cas, I—” He sighs, tilting my chin up with a finger so I have to meet his eyes. “Do you…do you even want this? Me…this? Have you _ever_ wanted this, or am I forcing you into it?” His eyes—so wide and scared and hopeful—can only meet mine for a fraction of a second every now and then before he glances away.

God, how could he think I’d ever want anything else? Am I not clear? Am I not _here_? It’s my turn to make him meet my eyes. “Sometimes wanting you…I ache from it. Sometimes wanting you is like a physical _thing_ —a presence in the room that presses on me constantly.” I watch him as I speak, the words flowing in a way they haven’t in years. He does that to me—brings out the poetry. “I want you with every breath and every heartbeat and every second of the day. I _want_ you.” He’s fighting a smile, his insecurities melting away before my eyes. “Any way I can get you,” I add in a whisper.

And suddenly his lips are on mine and I’m gasping for breath in a whole new way, but at the same time—in an old way. Old and familiar and so dearly missed. I cling to him, breathing in his breaths as he breaths in mine and it’s perfect. So divinely perfect. His hands are in my hair and mine are in his and I kiss him like this is all I’ve ever wanted because it _is_.

His lips on mine are softer than I remember—better than I ever imagined. It’s passion and heat and tenderness and…and something else. Something _more_ that swells my chest and warms my heart and makes everything feel right and good and true. _This is it,_ I think. _This is heaven. This is home._


	15. As You Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it. Let me know in the comments. Okay, bye.

**_November 9, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

The whiskey burns as it slides down my throat, warming me from the inside and giving me some much-needed courage. I take a deep breath and hesitate for a moment with my fist poised to knock. My heart pounds in my chest as I picture all the possible ways Cas will react. He won’t be happy, that’s for damn sure. I close my eyes and swallow my anxiety before rapping on the door. I wait…and wait…and wait. Eventually, I hear shuffling on the other side before the lock flips and Cas cracks it open, sticking his head out just far enough to see me. I lean over, forcing an awkward smile that probably makes me look like I’m in pain.

Cas’s eyes just drop to the floor before he steps back, holding the door wide so I don’t have an excuse to accidentally touch him. I kick off my shoes at the door and follow behind him as he leads me to the kitchen. _So this is how it’s going to be_. He’s avoiding the issue and avoiding me too. Distancing.

He sits at one side of the table so that I’m forced to sit on the other side or at the end. He knows I know what he’s doing but he won’t meet my eyes. He just stares at the table and fiddles with his pen. I roll my eyes, huffing my frustration as I snatch it from his fingers.

His mouth opens wide as his eyes shoot to mine and I think I’ve got him but his eyes just drop back down to the table as he moves his hands to his lap.

“Cas!” I snap, gripping his chin between my thumb and forefinger and forcing him to meet my eyes as I grind my teeth and glare. Why the hell does he have to be so difficult? All I want to do is fix this but his stubborn ass won’t let me. He doesn’t even fight my fingers, meeting my glare with cold, lifeless eyes. He doesn’t speak. “Just… _say_ something.”

“What would you like me to say?” He whispers and my heart aches. He sounds so defeated—so _done_.

“Yell! Scream, cry, hit me—just _something_ other than this…this _nothing_.” His expression never wavers-never even shifts as he stares on and my breathing comes in labored pants as I watch him with wide eyes, looking for any sign of change. There’s nothing—not even a flicker.

God, I don’t even know why I did it. Well, that’s not true. Cassie had been hounding me for months so I finally broke down and agreed to go out with her. It’s just my fucking luck that Cas would be out at the same goddamn restaurant. We haven’t spoken since—not that it’s usual for us to speak—and I’ve been avoiding him as best I can at school to avoid a run-in with him and the guys—but this felt different. It’s a colder kind of silence—more deliberate.

I had to see him that night—I _had_ to—and I know I shouldn’t have stayed but something inside my chest just wouldn’t let me leave until the morning. I knew he’d be upset but…I don’t know.

Instead of doing any of those things, he just removes my hand from his chin and reaches for his glasses, slipping them on before waiting patiently for my paper. I gape at him, my eyes pleading for him to show me that he’s feeling _something_ other than complete detachment. I couldn’t take it if he were to decide he wants nothing to do with me anymore.

“Please,” I whisper and a tiny flicker of something passes over his features before it’s gone. It was small, but it was there and it lights a tiny spark of hope in my chest. “Please.” He holds his hand out for my paper and my heart sinks. I reach into my bag and toss it to him along with his stupid red pen. “Fine,” I snap, watching for a moment as he reads. I pull my travel bottle of whiskey out of my bag and take a swig, feeling it burn as it goes down. My head is a little fuzzy but the alcohol gives me an idea.

I set it on the table in front of Cas but he doesn’t even notice; too busy ignoring me to look up, so I drop to my knees beneath the table and situate myself between his legs, grabbing at his zipper and tugging it down as he lets out a startled yelp. “What are you _doing?_ ”

“If you’re not going to speak, then we won’t fucking speak,” I mumble, getting his pants undone and tugging them down around his thighs. His underwear follows and then his cock is in my mouth, hardening in seconds as breathy little whimpers and stuttered breaths come from above me. I wrap one hand around the base, pumping lightly as I suck the tip, wringing a choked moan from him.

I’ve never done this before and I sure as hell never thought I’d like it as much as I do, but this is Cas; everything is better with Cas. I take him into the back of my throat, feeling the whiskey in my veins as I swallow around him, squeezing a gasp from him for the effort. Heat surges into my groin when his hands move into my hair, giving it a little tug as he takes what he wants—nothing is hotter than Cas taking what he wants. Right now, it’s all about him and he fucking knows it. I’m so fucking hard it hurts as Cas tugs gently on my head, bobbing me up and down as he fucks my mouth. His moans get louder and louder as I move my hand down to the front of my jeans, feeling the tent over my bulging erection as Cas’s cock starts twitching inside my mouth.

I rub myself through my jeans, shivering from the delicious friction. Cas is close; I can feel him swelling in my mouth.

Just at the edge of my mind, I hear a door opening. “You should probably make sure you’re the only one home before getting a blow-job under the table, baby bro.” I jump so hard my head hits the table as Cas scrambles to do up his fly. “Who’s the little fucker anyway?” I hear Gabe mumble before his whiskey-colored eyes meet mine under the table. His grin stretches his cheeks and his eyes light with mischief. “Oh-ho, wait until everyone hears about this—”

Before he knows what’s happened, I have him pinned to the wall with my forearm pressing into his throat and cutting off his air. We’re practically nose to nose as I burn holes through him and he claws at my arm, trying to get free but I press down harder. I tremble with rage but also fear. Fear for me and fear for Cas because _no_ _one_ can ever know.

“You didn’t fucking see anything,” I growl and the bastard has the nerve to smirk.

“Really? ‘Cause I’m almost positive those pretty-boy lips were wrapped around little Cassie’s pecker.” I cringe, only faintly hearing Cas behind me. He tugs on my arm, trying his damnedest to get me off his brother.

I get closer to Gabe’s face, lowering my voice to a threatening hiss. “If this gets out, it’ll come back on Cas. Not me— _Cas_.” His face hardens as he glares.

“Is that a threat, Dean-o?” I can only laugh; a sharp, bitter sound that does nothing to lighten the mood.

“I’m the least of his worries,” I whisper, finally letting go. Gabe drops to the floor, clutching his throat as Cas rushes to him. I don’t waste any time in grabbing my bag and leaving, getting behind the wheel and screeching Baby’s tires as I peel out of the driveway, only belatedly realizing that my whiskey is still on the table.

 

_CASTIEL_

I can’t bring myself to look at Gabe as he stands up, bracing himself against the wall and rubbing at his throat. “Bet that’s his throwing arm,” he grumbles and under any other circumstance, I’d laugh, but this is so far from funny that I can only turn away and start packing away my things. “Seriously, Cassie? _Dean Winchester?_ ” I don’t answer as my eyes catch on the half empty bottle of whiskey. I snatch it up quickly before Gabe sees it and takes it for himself. “I’m mean, good for you. He’s fucking _hot_ but aren’t you worried about STD’s?”

He pulls a chocolate bar from his pocket, slowly peeling off the wrapper before taking a bite, chewing with that stupid look on his face. I try to pass him but he blocks my exit. “What the hell are you thinking?” I wasn’t. I’m not. “And what did he mean by _I’m the least of his worries?_ ” I don’t answer that either, finally finding a gap and sneaking past him.

I run up the stairs to my room, locking the door behind me and sagging into my desk chair, taking off my glasses and rubbing my eyes as everything crashes down on me at once. Sobs climb up my throat and tumble out, one after another until my hands are wet and my chest aches. Everything was going so good, but now? Who knows what happens now. Dean won’t want anything to do with me and he might even go back to using me as his own personal punching bag. I think that would be infinitely worse than before—to have him hate me again after all the kindness he’s shown me? That might just break me for good this time.

I stare at his bottle of whiskey and debate just pouring it down the drain. I hate that he drinks—my mom drinks and it makes her horrible and nasty and neglectful—but at the same time…what if I kept it? For when times are bad, I could take a swig and numb myself to the world. I don’t pour it out. Instead, I stash it in my backpack for the nightmare tomorrow is bound to be.

 

I duck my head when Dean approaches me on the way to our English class, positive that he’ll do _something,_ and cringe away when he reaches me but nothing comes. He completely ignores me. Huh, that’s new.

I take my seat in the back of the room, too focused on trying to figure out why Dean hasn’t retaliated for my slip in precaution last night to notice the police officers talking to Mr. Metatron.

I jump when he claps, my head snapping up to look at him as everyone else does too. “There’s been an anonymous tip about someone carrying drugs, so…” He gestures to the police officers. “These fine officers of the law will be performing a bag check. Officer Mills,” He gestures for her to step ahead, which she does with the confident, sure-footedness of someone who knows they are in charge. My heart leaps into my throat. _The whiskey…_

“Ladies and gentlemen, please place your bags on your desks and line up against the back wall.” With shaky hands, I set my bag on the desk, feeling sick to my stomach. _I’m going to throw up._

I look around and everyone is already getting out of their seats, looking bored out of their minds or excited that class is delayed. Dean looks impassive. I stand on shaky legs as I realize there’s not a single thing I can do but follow behind and wait for them to find it. I’ll be in trouble—I know—I might even lose my opportunity for colleges. Even the thought clenches my stomach, sending a swarm of bees through it.

I press my back tight against the wall, trying to disappear as my legs tremble and I pick at the skin around my nails. I’m so busy worrying that I don’t notice who’s standing beside me until I’m nudged by an elbow. I glance over, my eyes meeting curiously annoyed green ones. _Stop fidgeting_ , he mouths and I bite my bottom lip, trying my hardest to stand still and not let on to how terrified I am for what’s to come.

I flinch when I see the blonde officer open my bag, rifling through it with her baton before pausing and glancing up at sheriff Mills. “Heya partner, come have a look at this.” I swallow hard, shrinking back into the wall. I can feel Dean’s eyes burning into the side of my head.

Sheriff Mills’ face is far from impressed when she pulls out the half empty bottle of whiskey and sets it on the desk, looking over the line up at all our faces. “What do we have here?” I’m _definitely_ going to throw up. The other officer pulls out my books, looking for a name as the sheriff’s eyes lock on me. “What’s your name?”

Every set of eyes in the room turn on me and my throat constricts. I can feel Dean tense up beside me and I subconsciously move closer. I don't look at her—at anyone. I can’t. Clearing my throat, I do my best to answer clearly. “C-Castiel.” She raises an eyebrow, her smirk is unimpressed.

“Is that yours?” She nods to the bottle and I’m shaking so bad it takes me a moment to gather myself enough to answer.

“It’s mine, actually,” Dean says from beside me and my head snaps around as he takes a small step forward and slightly in front of me. I see Metatron’s jaw drop in shock and dismay as his star quarterback throws himself under the bus.

“This says _Castiel_ ,” the blonde states, holding up my notebook.

“Cas was returning this.” He swipes the bottle off the table, holding it up before looking back at me with a wink and a grin. “Thanks.” He unscrews the lid and tips the bottle at her. “Bottoms up.” Then he’s pouring it down his throat as they grab at him, pulling it away from his mouth and causing it to spill down his chin. My heart pounds a staccato beat in my chest as my brain tries to comprehend what just happened. Did _Dean Winchester_ just take the fall for me? For _me?_ I’m so stunned I can’t even move as they cuff him and lead him out of the room. Not even when the class is let out so Metatron can wrangle his best player.

Not even when the room is empty and I’m left standing there all alone.

 

**_December 10, 2018_ **

_DEAN_

Every nerve inside me comes alive when Cas’s lips touch mine. They’re softer than they look—warmer—and I can’t help but feel like this has always been true. Kissing Cas is far better than _thinking_ about kissing Cas. Everything with Cas is just _better_.

My hands are in his hair, pulling him closer as he grips my shirt in tight fists. I throw my leg over his hip and roll him under me, running my hands down his body until I reach the hem of his shirt. He gasps when my hands move underneath, but he doesn’t push me away. My heart pounds as Cas blue blue eyes meet mine.

_This is it. This is right._

Every part of me tells me it always has been. The memory tickling the back of my mind says so, too. It’s a swelling in my chest that I didn’t recognize at the time—I’d never felt it before and so it never had a name. It makes me kiss him harder—with more passion and need. God, do I need him. Every part of him. Right now.

Cas is hard; I can feel his cock through his thin boxers and it only notches the heat higher as I pull his shirt over his head and toss it across the room. Then his hands are pulling my own shirt up and it’s across the room, too.

“Dean, I—” He stops himself, pressing his lips to mine instead as a hand pushes through my hair and holds me still. Cas takes control of our kiss, massaging my tongue with his in a way that’s almost desperate. I take it. I take everything he’s willing to offer and give it all back.

With my heart pounding in my ears, I reach for the elastic of his boxers, moving my hands inside and wrapping my palm around his thick shaft, forcing a grunt from him as he bites down hard on my lip. I hiss in pain but heat shoots through me so fast I almost come in my boxers.

I open my eyes to watch his face as my hand moves lazily over him, drawing breathy gasps from his kiss-swollen lips and causing his eyes to flutter closed as his head presses back into the pillow.

The column of his neck has my mouth watering as I move my lips just below his jawbone, licking and sucking my way down. He swallows thickly as I tighten my grip, swirling my thumb over the tip as I swirl my tongue on his neck. His fingers dig into my shoulder blades as I grind my aching cock on his thigh like a fucking dog in heat.

I pull my hand off his dick and smile when he lets out an annoyed grunt before I pull off his boxers. He tenses for half a second—only half a second—but it’s long enough for me to notice. I stop, looking up at his face in a silent question but he only nods, so I take them off and throw them in the corner. My fingers catch in his wiry leg hair as I run my palms up his legs, noticing for the first time that I’m shaking. I clench my fist to try to steady them but it’s no use—I’m so fucking nervous I could throw up and I glance up at Cas, only to find that he too is trembling like a leaf in a windstorm.

I force a deep breath into my lungs and lay down beside him. His eyes follow my every move and he turns over to face me when I rest a hand on his hip, moving it around to his ass. He tenses again, every muscle in his body locking up, and I take my hand away.

I nudge his chin up with a finger when he refuses to look me in the eye, raising an eyebrow in question. He sighs.

“Not that. Not tonight,” he whispers, taking my hand in his as I nod. I watch him closely, looking at his downcast eyes and seeing something dark—something haunted and damaged. I don’t ask. I want to— _so_ _bad_ —but I don’t. Cas will tell me when he’s ready.

“Okay,” I say, giving his hand a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and I frown, nudging his head back up as my stomach clenches.

“Don’t apologize to me for that. Ever.” The conviction in my voice is impossible to miss and he nods, stroking the side of my hand with his thumb.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t…” He grins mischievously as he reaches for my boxers—for my cock—and slides them off before tossing them away. The lust in his eyes sets me on fire as heat floods just below my stomach and spreads outward to consume my whole body. He takes both of us in one hand and the friction…the feeling of his skin on mine…I think I might pass out.

“Did we ever do this…before?” I ask through gasping breaths, pushing my fingers through his hair and holding just tight enough for a choked groan to fall from his lips.

“No…this is a first.” The smile he gives me is so soft and tender that, somehow, the heat inside me ratchets higher and I almost fucking explode.

“I like this first,” I mumble.

“Me too.” His hands work faster as our breaths become more ragged and my hips start to jerk of their own accord, thrusting into Cas’s fist as my mouth falls open and my eyes fall closed.

He moans my name softly, almost like a plea, and I lose it, coming all over his hand and our stomachs and the sheets with a muffled grunt. Cas follows almost immediately; his face buried in my neck as he whimpers. My heart hammers against my ribs as we come down, breathing hard as our hands clutch tightly to any and every part of the other we can reach.

Cas’s hands grip my shoulders. My fingers thread through his hair. We drift off like that; too tired and sated to do anything but succumb to the peace of sleep.

 

Cas isn’t around when I wake up late into the next day but I find a couple of pain pills on the nightstand and a glass of water to go with it. Sighing gratefully, I down the pills and the water as my head pounds before lying back into the pillows and closing my eyes, waiting for the throbbing to subside.

After a while, I can open my eyes without stabbing pain so I roll out of bed, grimacing when I feel the dried come on my stomach. I shower quickly before dressing in sweatpants and a t-shirt and going in search of Cas, who is still nowhere to be found.

“Cas?” I call as I round the corner into the kitchen. It’s empty, as is the backyard and the guest room. I’m about to give up when I notice a note on the coffee table. _Gone for groceries, C_. I grin at his neat little note. Straightforward and to-the-point—so _Cas_ that butterflies flutter in my stomach.

I flop down on my couch, shifting around to get comfy as the meds start taking full effect; weighing down my eyelids and pulling on my limbs. I sink into the cushions as memories start to flow over me. One in particular, actually…I’ve never taken Cas on a date.

 

By the time Cas gets home, I have it all planned out. His arms are weighed down with grocery bags but he waves me off when I move to stand. I lay back down, patiently waiting for him to unpack everything so I can tell him my great idea.

“Hurry up!” I shout, grinning at the barely audible grumbling from the kitchen. I cross my feet at the ankle and close my eyes.

“Oh, hush,” I hear from the other room as cupboard doors open and close. “How do you manage to find anything in here?” I smile as his murmured words reach my ears. That fucking _sass_. I missed it. I didn’t know it was there, but the easing in my chest tells me that I missed it so fucking bad.

Eventually, he returns with a bowl of cereal and a glass of water, setting them down on the table in front of me. I tilt my head back and frown. “I’m not hungry.” I am hungry—starving, actually—but I want the sass. I’m fighting a grin as his hands settle on his hips and he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing to pin me to the couch. Instead of snapping at me like I’d hoped, though, he just picks up the bowl and walks away, leaving me slack-jawed on my back. “Wait! Cas, I was kidding!”

He turns, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why would that be a joke? If you’re hungry, why would you tell me you’re not?” I huff, exasperated, and roll my eyes. Damn, he really takes things literally.

“I wanted to see your sass.” He tilts his head in confusion and I just stare at him. “You know…how you snap at me when I don’t take care of myself or when I’m being unreasonable.” His face relaxes a little as he starts to understand what I’m saying.

“But…why?”

“Well…” I swallow hard, glancing at the bowl of cereal in his hands as my stomach rumbles. “I missed it,” I say, shrugging my shoulders as a tiny grin pulls at the corners of his lips. He sets the bowl down in front of me again and takes a seat on the floor by my head, leaning back against the armrest and turning to look at me.

His blue eyes meet mine for a moment, just staring as I stare back and he tilts his head with a little grin. His face is so close to mine that his soft breaths brush across my lips. His eyes flick to my mouth when I run my tongue across my lips, wetting them self-consciously. “Can I kiss you?” He whispers, biting his bottom lip as his cheeks flush.

“Any time you want,” I whisper back, and then his lips are on mine and they’re so soft and so sweet and everything I’ve ever wanted. God, I love kissing Cas—it gets better every time. Every _single_ time. I smile against his mouth as my fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer as his hand tangles in my shirt. I forget everything I wanted to tell him before and everything I wanted to do after as I’m trapped in this moment with him, wishing we could stay here forever, just like this.

My stomach rumbles again, pulling Cas away from me with a chuckle as he reaches for the bowl on the table. He holds the spoon to my mouth, waiting for me to open. Normally, I’d scowl and tell him I’m not a child, but today, my head pounds like a motherfucker and I can’t imagine sitting up to feed myself. So I open my mouth and let him feed me like a two-year-old.

By the time the bowl is empty, it’s very obvious to both of us that Cas has never fed anyone but himself in his life. My stomach rumbles, still fucking _empty_ because half the bowl is on the floor and the other half is in Cas’s lap.

I’m laughing so hard that tears roll down my cheeks as Cas grumbles, going in search of a mop as he brushes cereal off his crotch.

He brings back a mop that I’ve never used and cleans up his mess, putting it back in some closet somewhere that I’ll never see again before disappearing into the kitchen for a while.

“How did you even manage that?” I ask between bouts of laughter, my stomach aching and my head pounding but I don’t care. I haven’t laughed this hard in…hell… _years_.

“It’s dark in there!” He yells from the kitchen, setting me off again. It _is_ dark in here—the blinds are closed and the lights are off to keep my head from exploding—which it might just do anyway—but it really isn’t _that_ dark.

“You’re just as blind as a bat.”

“I’m not _blind!_ ” He snaps, coming back with a plate of scrambled eggs. “You’re feeding yourself this time,” he grumbles, setting the plate on the table and taking a seat where he was before. I notice that his pants are different—they’re _mine_ , for one thing. God, he looks fucking _good_ in my pants. I pout but push myself up, wincing when my head protests the shift in gravity. “When was the last time you took your medication?” I don’t look to see his frown; I know it’s there.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, but my stomach turns and I gag, struggling to hold back the single spoonful of Cheerio’s I managed to swallow before the bowl overturned.

“You’re not _fine_ , Dean. You’re in pain.” He stands before I can stop him, leaving me to go in search of my meds.

“You don’t have to take care of me; I can do that for myself.” There’s no conviction in my words, though. I like having Cas here.

“Yes, I do.” My eyes snap open to glare at him. Guilt shines in his eyes and shows all over his face—not that I have to look at him to know it’s there; I can hear it in his voice.

“This isn’t your fault,” I snap, narrowing my eyes at him—trying to punch it through that thick skull of his.

“You never would have been there—”

“It was _not_ your fault, Castiel. Don’t fucking blame yourself.” He doesn’t reply, handing me my pills instead, before passing me the glass of water. I down both, not waiting for them to kick in before reaching for the food. Cas sits silently beside me as I eat, taking the plate when I’m finished and lying down with his head on my chest as mine hits the pillow. “It’s not your fault,” I whisper as I sift my fingers through his hair, knowing that guilt still plagues his mind.

“It is.” His small voice is muffled by my shirt and I sigh.

“The bad things that happen to you aren’t your fault.” He hides his eyes when I try to find them, burying his face in my chest as he sniffles.

“I must deserve them. I _must_. Why else would so many bad things happen?” I think about that for a moment, choosing my next words carefully.

“The worst things happen to the best people, Cas, and you’re the best person I know.” I kiss the top of his head and lay my head back down, watching the ceiling fan turn in lazy circles as I realize just how true that it. Cas is the best person I’ve ever met.

He doesn’t respond, curling his fingers into my shirt instead and shifting a little so he lays between my legs—every part of him on every part of me. My meds start to kick in, dulling the throbbing in my head and weighing down every part of me. Cas says something but it’s muffled and far away as my eyes fall shut and I can’t manage to pry them open again. I wrap my arms around his shoulders to keep him in place as I drift into a drug-induced sleep.

 

_CASTIEL_

I disentangle myself from Dean before slipping a pillow between his arms so he won’t notice I’m gone. He shifts a bit, squeezing the pillow before resettling and I watch him sleep for a moment or two, my eyes drifting over the freckles on his cheeks and the way his eyelashes fan out beneath his eyes. He’s so beautiful. Even with the stitched up gash on his cheekbone, he’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

It’s dark but I don’t dare to turn on the light for fear of waking him and causing him more pain. Guilt turns my stomach and I have to look away. I wander into his kitchen, going straight for the fridge where I know Ellen stashed some potato salad and take out the bowl. I grin as I load up a plate—God, this stuff is like heaven in a bowl.

I take the plate back into the living room and sit in the chair adjacent to the couch near Dean’s head. He hasn’t moved at all but the steady rise and fall of his chest soothes the anxiety rising inside me. _He’s okay. He’ll be okay._

I groan when the first bite hits my tongue, closing my eyes and letting my head fall against the back of the chair. This has to be the best thing ever created. It has to be.

I can’t be bothered to open my eyes as I eat—everything is dark anyway—so I keep them closed, using the silence to think about all the events of the last few days.

The trial. I don’t know what to do about that. Everything being dragged up and analyzed like it’s just a series of events and not the nightmares that keep me up at night…I don’t know if I can do it.

Dean mumbles in his sleep and my eyes snap open. He has turned on his side, still hugging the pillow as his eyebrows furrow, making a crease appear as his frown deepens. He settles again, his face going slack as one arm extends out to the floor. I’ll have to watch to make sure he doesn’t roll off.

Maybe I’ll call Dr. Barnes and see if I can move up my appointment. I’ll get her view on everything and hopefully, I’ll be able to make a decision. Even as I think it though, I know what I’ll do. For Dean to get any peace, they need to be taken care of. For Dean to sleep easy, there needs to be justice.

Shoving the issue to the back of my mind, I decide to leave it for another day and pull out my phone. There’s a missed call from Balthazar and my stomach turns. God, I really don’t want to see him. Or talk to him. Or have anything to do with him again. Not after last time…

I delete the notification and pull up Jimmy’s number, not even checking the time before hitting the call button.

“Castiel?”

“Hey,” I say softly, only now realizing how late it is by the rough edge to his voice. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have called.” I can hear Amelia in the background and bedsprings creaking as he gets up.

“I’m awake now, so what is it? Another nightmare?” Jimmy and I aren’t close—not like Gabe and me anyway. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up in different states. He doesn’t know even half of the hell I went through in our childhood, but he knows enough to know I have nightmares regularly. He doesn’t know they’re almost nightly, but he knows I have them.

“Well…kind of. My store…it was invaded by gangsters.” I can almost feel his eye-roll as I cringe.

“Gangsters? Really? Come on, Castiel, be serious.” There’s a stab in my chest at the annoyance I can hear in his voice.

“Forget it. Sorry I called.” I don’t know why I did, honestly. Things have always been sort of tense between us. He just doesn’t understand how bad things were here. He got the good life and I got the scraps.

“Wait—” I hang up, feeling sick to my stomach and so alone. Why do I even bother? No one gets it and no one actually cares to try.

“Cas?” Dean’s sleep-roughened voice flows over me, soothing my frayed nerves and easing the lump in my throat. His green eyes meet mine in the dark room and he reaches out a hand. I take it without a word, feeling the weight of the world lift as I curl up in his arms. He holds me close, falling asleep almost immediately. I don’t, lying awake and pondering my reality. _Actual_ reality and not my perception of it.

I’m not alone and I haven’t been for a while. I have Dean, for the moment anyway, but I have him and for now, that’s enough. It’s more than enough—it’s everything.


	16. It Was Never About The Music

**_November 12, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

I watch as Cas kneels beside the flower beds, his nose wrinkled in concentration as he picks out weeds with his bare hands, turning them black. Even through the small, dusty window in the door, I can clearly make out a streak of dirt on his cheek and I grin.

He doesn’t notice when I open the door. Or as I walk up behind him. Or when I sit in the chair by the table running along the middle of the greenhouse. School’s been out for hours and football practice is long over so there’s really no reason for either of us to be here, but I like watching him like this—in his element.

Besides, I start my volunteer hours at the pound tomorrow—my punishment for downing the bottle of whiskey Cas almost got busted for. I still haven’t given him shit for that. Maybe I’ll just get him to come with me tomorrow; I’m sure he’d love it.

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?” Cas startles and I grin, kicking my feet up on another chair and leaning back with my arms folded behind my head. Cas’s shock transforms into a shy smile as he dusts off his hands and stands. My eyes follow his every move as he washes his hands, pushing his glasses up on his forehead before coming back over. “I thought those were for reading?” I gesture towards his glasses and he shrugs.

“I find they’re useful in many situations.” That fucking grin—I want to kiss it. So I do, pulling him down to me by the collar of his shirt and planting my lips on his before pulling back and swiping at his dirt-smudged face with my thumb.

“Yeah? Like what kind of situations?” I raise an eyebrow as his cheeks flush and he glances away with that shy, yet pleased grin.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, but he does. He fucking knows and he knows I know he knows.

“Hm…maybe I’ll just get you to show me sometime,” I say, lowering my voice to a rough whisper while pulling him in. I sit forward so the chair rests on all four legs and plant my feet on the ground while twining my finger through his wild hair and pulling his lips back to mine. It’s soft and brief, but every kiss from Cas is just…better. Better than the last one. Better than any other one. Just…better.

His hands tangle in my jacket, holding me close when I try to pull away and I let him, not really wanted to move anyway. “Take me somewhere?”

I grin a lopsided grin and wink. “That’s the plan.” His smile only widens as I stand.

 

The winding roads take us nowhere in particular but I don’t mind. Cas is in the passenger’s seat, head bobbing to the music with the windows rolled down. There’s a lightness in my chest that isn’t usually there without alcohol. It’s a new feeling and I like it, I think.

A song comes on and Cas does the most adorable little wiggle in his seat before reaching for the volume. Then he rethinks what he’s about to do, pulling his hand back and tucking them in his lap.

I glance over at him, noticing the furrowed brows and pursed lips before I crank the volume, not even caring that it’s not a song I know or would ever listen to—Cas likes it. _“You've got a fast car,”_ Cas grins at me as I rev the engine. _“I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we can make a deal,”_ Cas starts shimmying in his seat and I throw my head back laughing. _“Maybe together we can get somewhere. Anyplace is better. Starting from zero got nothing to lose. Maybe we'll make something. Me myself I've got nothing to prove.”_

I don’t know the lyrics but I try to follow along, taking turns faster than I should as my heart starts pumping harder. _“You've got a fast car, I've got a plan to get us outta here. I've been working at the convenience store. Managed to save just a little bit of money. We won't have to drive too far. Just across the border and into the city. You and I can both get jobs. Finally, see what it means to be living.”_ I laugh when Cas looks at me with that shy smile. The one that’s just on the mischievous side of shy. The playful one that’s a little self-conscious.

 _“See my old man's got a problem. He lives with a bottle that's the way it is. Says his body's too old for working. His body's too young to look like his. My momma went off and left him. She wanted more from life than he could give. I said somebody's gotta take care of him. So I quit school and that's what I did.”_ Cas doesn’t sing this part and when I look over at him, he’s frowning a little. I meet his eyes for half a second, shrugging before I take his hand and give it a squeeze. My old man’s got a problem…Had a problem. He doesn’t have many anymore.

The song keeps playing and Cas keeps singing and I just can’t help but love this song. Just something about it…or maybe it’s just something about the way Cas seems to love it. _“So remember when we were driving. Driving in your car. Speed so fast felt like I was drunk. City lights lay out before us. And your arms felt nice wrapped around my shoulders and I-I had a feeling that I belonged. And I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone.”_ The song fades out and I turn down the music, reclaiming Cas’s hand as the turns straighten out into a long stretch of highway.

“Do we have to go back?” Cas whispers, staring straight ahead at the sun sinking into the earth.

“No, we’ll just keep on driving.” I grin at him. “We’ll drive right into the sun and never look back—Thelma and Louise style.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” And the smile on his face makes me wish we could. I’d leave it all behind and never look back just to keep that smile on his face, I think. Football and school…easy. Not Sam, though. I couldn’t leave Sam behind.

I undo his seatbelt, only getting a small protest as I tug him across the bench so he’s curled up against my side as I drive with one hand. “Dean! This isn’t safe!”

I smirk. “You and your _safe_.” I shake my head as an almost bubbly feeling starts to grow in my chest, expanding until I feel like it’ll burst inside me.

“Safe is good! Safe keeps you from getting stuffed in lockers and run up flagpoles!” I squeeze him against my side, kissing the top of his head before refocussing on the road as guilt punches me in the stomach.

“I know,” I whisper, running my fingers over his arm. _I’m sorry._ I tangle my fingers in his wild hair, feeling the soft strands.

The last sliver of sun sinks below the horizon as we drive back into the city limits. Cas is asleep on my shoulder, resting peacefully as the music plays softly in the background. I pull into a drive-thru, ordering for both Cas and me before heading to Bela’s. It’s dark by the time I pull up outside and the streets are empty—not a soul in sight as I gently wake Cas. His sleepy eyes find mine, narrowing slightly in displeasure at being woken up but he doesn’t say anything, following me out of the car on stumbling legs as I lead him into the back corner of the patio to our table.

“I thought you might be hungry,” I say, holding up the bag with a grin before pulling out a burger and handing it to Cas while trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach from the smile that lights up his face. Truth? I didn’t want this night to end yet so thank God he’s happy to eat with me for a little while before I take him home.

“This is becoming a habit.” He raises an eyebrow at me while taking a bite and I swear to God it’s the hottest fucking thing. I’m so caught up in staring at him that I don’t realize he’s asked me a question until his toe nudges my shin. I raise both eyebrows and can’t help the dopey grin that spreads across my face. “Did you not hear me?” I shake my head slowly, still smiling like a fool. He huffs, scratching at his cheek before picking up a fry and nibbling on the end. “How is Sam?”

My walls go up immediately like they always do. I can’t help it—it’s an automatic reaction when it comes to my baby brother. But this is _Cas_. My Cas. I can talk to him.

With a heavy sigh and a crushing weight on my chest, I tell him all the shit Sam’s gotten into. “It’s gettin’ bad, Cas. Real fucking bad.” My voice is barely a whisper but he hears me. He takes my hand in his and I let him, drawing comfort from his warm palm and light touch. “He um…” I rub my hand over my forehead. “He’s gotten into the heavy shit. Coke, heroine…you name it, he’s probably on it and he won’t even talk to me anymore. He’s like a fucking zombie.” Cas’s eyes shine with empathy as a lump lodges in my throat. I hate this feeling. I’m so helpless that I feel sick—I’m losing _another_ person I love.

“He’s killing himself and all I can do is watch. I think he’s stealing from me, too.” Images of my emptied wallet lying on my nightstand flash in my mind, and Sam’s anger when I brought it up after is still clear, too. He was so pissed—so hurt that I thought _that_ little of him, but…what else am I supposed to think? “I hate this, Cas. I hate it so much.” My voice breaks and I can’t even find it in me to be embarrassed by the tears that roll down my cheeks.

“I know.” I wipe away my tears and sniffle, so glad that Cas is here—that I can tell him these things without any fear of being made fun of. “I know.” He doesn’t say anything more but just being near him is calming.

Something occurs to me, suddenly, and I find I need to know. With curiosity on my face, I glance up at him. “We’re friends right?”

The shock on his face is expected but the disappointment isn’t, and something twinges in my chest. I ignore it.

“Um…” He pulls his hand away and eats another fry, avoiding my eyes at all cost. “I guess…if you want us to be.”

“We’re friends then.” That’s all we can ever be. “Friends tell each other things, right?”

“I suppose. I wouldn’t know.” He shrugs, playing it off as not a big deal but I see the pain in his eyes and It only raises my concerns.

“Okay…so you’d tell me if there was anything…” I struggle to find the words, scraping my brain for the perfect way to phrase it but I come up with nothing. “You know if you were ever going to do…something…you know, to hurt yourself. You’d tell me right?” Cas just snorts and it’s so unexpected that I start to laugh. Then so does he and we can’t seem to stop.

It was a serious question, and after what I saw on his phone, I really _do_ want to know if that’s something he would do, but the smile on his face right now makes it seem like an impossibility—like it’s the most ridiculous thing to ever suggest.

I start to believe—just for this moment—that everything will be okay. Cas will graduate and move away to another city where assholes like me will leave him alone. He’ll find a nice guy to settle down with and have a nice family and a nice job. He’ll be happy. He’ll never have to see me again. Everything will be okay.

For some reason or another, the thought hits a nerve inside me; one that isn’t entirely pleasant. I don’t _want_ to never see Cas again. I don’t want him to find someone else. I want him to be with me.

Shoving the thought away, I focus on Cas’s happy smile and reassure myself that everything will be okay.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” Cas whispers and I couldn’t agree more, so I take his hand in one of mine and our garbage in the other and lead him back to my car.

We drive until the streetlights disappear and the stars shine brightly in the moonless sky. Hours pass and Cas falls asleep again, this time with his head in my lap. He nuzzles his face a few times, keeping me more than a little turned on and I’m surprised he’s able to sleep with the woody pressed against his cheek.

God, now all I can think about is road-head from Cas. I take a deep, calming breath, pushing the thought away and letting him sleep instead. I know he’d do it if I asked. He wouldn’t even hesitate if I woke him up and undid my jeans, but somehow that feels wrong—like I’m taking advantage of him and I would never forgive myself if I found out later that he didn’t really want to do it.

So I let him sleep.

At least, until we get to where we’re going. There are fields stretching out on either side of us going for miles and miles and filled with corn that far surpasses my height. Eventually, I find the turn-off and take a right, driving down the old country lane until we hit a crossroads. I stop the car on the side of the road and gently wake Cas. He nuzzles his nose into my aching dick and the amount of restraint I exert to hold back my moan is almost inhuman.

I can’t see the blush that covers his cheeks when he realizes what he did, but I know it’s there.

“Cornfield? Are you planning on murdering me?” The grin that splits my face in two probably looks a little insane as I go along with it, opening the car door and dragging Cas out before throwing him over my shoulder to the sound of his startled laughter. “Dean!” He shouts, both hands fisted in my jacket as I lock the car and trot to the side of the road and into the corn. A thrill goes through me when I remember that we’re all alone out here and not a soul is awake to hear us.

I start to run. It’s not fast or smooth because running in a cornfield is almost impossible, but it gets Cas laughing as he bounces up and down on my shoulder, his hands moving down to grip my belt loops. I spin around, feeling a lightness in me that’s been absent since I was a child. _Play_ was not something John Winchester encouraged, so this…this is new to me, but the way it makes me feel…my feet are lifting off the ground.

“Don’t drop me!”

“Never!” I shout, easily stepping over the twigs and dead corn while moving further into the field, grinning so wide my cheeks ache. There’s a chill in the air but my heart pumps so fast that it warms my blood and makes me sweat. Cas, on the other hand, starts to shiver, so I pull him off my shoulder, holding him tight to my chest as I rub my hands up and down his arms. He clings tight to me as his teeth chatter and I let him, loving the warmth of his body against mine even as the cold begins to nip at my nose.

Cas looks up at me from where he’s tucked his head in my neck, and I swear to God I lose my breath as my heart lodges itself firmly in my throat. Emotions swirl inside me, matching the ones I see in his eyes. I can’t look away as puffs of air float between us, visible from the cold.

How could I ever hurt him? How did I ever get any joy from seeing pain in his eyes? Looking back on it now, it seems like a lifetime ago—something I did in a past life. Now, though…I’d rip the throats out of anyone who tried to touch him.

And that fucking scares me.

“Dean…I—” My lips are on his before he says another word. I know what they’ll be and I can’t hear them. Not now—not when everything could fall apart in an instant. Happiness is fragile—soft and light—blue. Pain is more permanent; It’s harder to forget. Our only fear, really. Pain. Impossible to forget—red.

So I kiss him and it feels so _right—_ so perfectly right—but that feeling in my chest swells higher and higher until I’m clutching at his jaw and his hair, pulling him in closer as I lay us down on the ground. Cas whimpers as my hands travel over him, suddenly desperate to take everything he’s willing to give. I want it all and I want it now as fear crawls up my throat. _What if I lose him? What am I supposed to do then?_

 

_CASTIEL_

The dead corn scratches at my skin as I pull my pants back on, wincing when I shift too fast. Dean notices, smirking as he does up the button on his jeans and picks up his sweater, sliding it over my head without a word. My heart skips a beat as I’m engulfed in his scent. He ties the used condom and tosses it away before grabbing my arms and pulling me into him. I squeak in protest when my ass twinges but then my back is pressed to his chest and his arms are around me.

His heat his like a blanket, wrapping me up and staving off the chill. He kisses my temple and I can’t help but feel like I could get used to this. I let myself imagine holding his hand just because I want to, or him bringing home flowers after a long day at work. I can see it and it’s beautiful. He’d kiss me before leaving and as soon as he came home. We’d go on trips and have kids and do all the things we ever dreamed of doing. I’d be happy.

I let myself imagine the possibility for a moment, feeling hope spring up in my chest that maybe—just maybe—I can have it with Dean.

“Dean?” My heart leaps into my throat as my stomach flutters. I shouldn’t say anything, I know, but the thought…the _possibility_ …make my chest ache so badly with longing that I can’t keep it in.

“Yeah, angel mine?” He murmurs and I almost can’t say it. _Angel mine_. It’ll ruin everything if I bring up the future. He’ll pull away—I _know_ he will—and I can’t handle that right now. Not today.

“Never mind,” I whisper, picking at a hole in my jeans. I need new ones but Mom won’t buy me any until next year and it’s only a small hole.

“Come on, Cas. What’s up?” I take a deep breath, clinging to his arms as I try to organize my thought into words.

“Well…um—so…” Dean tenses behind me and I stop. He knows what’s coming and he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Be quiet for a minute,” he whispers and a spark of anger lights in my chest. He can’t just tell me not to talk when he doesn’t want to hear it!

“No, I’m going to say what I want to say,” I snap, wriggling in his arms, but he only holds me tighter. “Let me go!” Suddenly, there’s a hand over my mouth and lips pressed to my ear.

“Don’t make a sound, Cas.” His voice is a low growl but I can hear the tremble in his words as we listen to the darkness around us. That’s when I hear them. Whooping and hollering from far away as footsteps get closer, trudging through the corn with heavy steps.

“Where are you, Dean-o?”

“We know you’re here! That pretty car of yours is hard to miss!”

Dean’s muscles lock as every hair on my body stands on end and icy terror trickles down my spine.

“Your daddy owes us money and we’re here to collect!” The voices get steadily closer, searching the field from end to end.

I look to Dean as I start to shake from reasons other than cold. He lets me go suddenly, gathering his things and shoving his car keys at me.

“What—”

“Take them. Run. Go to my car and drive as fast as she’ll go. Don’t stop. Don’t look back, and for God’s sake, don’t wait for me.”

“No! Dean, I can’t—”

“You don’t get it—they’ll hurt you just to make a point. They can’t know you’re here. The things they’ll do to you…” He shivers, shoving his keys at me with so much urgency that I take them.

“Just come with me, then.” My voice is almost a plea, but I can’t help it. The thought of Dean staying here with those men…I can’t even imagine it. I don’t _want_ to imagine it. Fear courses through my veins as the heavy steps get steadily closer.

“I can’t—they’ll just follow my car. I need to lead them away from you.” Without another word, he pulls me in and plants a kiss on my lips, before pulling back, our eyes locking for a moment. One determined, the other unsure—both terrified. _Go_ , he mouths, shoving me in the direction of the car before turning on his heel and bolting in the other direction. He makes so much noise and I want to yell at him to be quiet. I don’t. I don’t do anything for a moment. I’m paralyzed with fear—fear for myself but mostly fear for Dean. My heart drops just thinking about what could happen.

 _It’ll only be worse if you stay._ I jerk back to myself and my feet carry me through the field faster than I thought they could. I only stumble a few times before I break through the edge of the corn, trying to ignore the shouting in the distance as I thank God that no one is at the car. I get in and rev the engine, forgetting to shift it into drive in my panic.

I don’t remember anything from the drive, only the blood-curdling fear that Dean is hurt sticks in my mind. It turns my stomach and I almost turn back a few times, but Dean needs me to be safe, so I take every dark turn at full speed until I’m completely and utterly lost. Slowing down, I scan the dark road for any signs but see none. Trees stretch out on either side of the road and I swear I see faces watching me every time I glance into them. My heart thunders in my chest as I go deeper and deeper into the unknown woods.

It’s been almost an hour since I decided I don’t know where I am, but fear keeps me driving this way, hoping with every mile that something familiar will pop up, but I'm disappointed every time. My stomach turns in the most sickening way as the pavement changes to dirt under the tires. Pebbles crunch as the lane narrows and the trees encroach, suffocating me with their nearness. Tears well in my eyes as I realize that I’m well and truly lost. Dean’s still out there and I don’t know if he's hurt or worse…I want to go home.

I pull over and turn around, heading back the way I came so that, hopefully, I can find Dean and get home. My tears leave wet trails down my cheeks as I drive, going faster and faster as the trees move away from the road and the dirt turns back into asphalt. I scan the dark fields, looking desperately for Dean even as I hope I don’t see anyone. Who else has a car like this, right?

Helplessness creeps into my heart as more tears fall and I find myself wishing I wasn’t such a coward. I could’ve helped Dean. I’m not sure how, but we could’ve thought of something.But, instead, I’m here; lost on some road in the middle of nowhere because I was asleep when Dean drove us out here.

I sniffle as I round a bend, then almost jump out of my skin as a dark figure is illuminated by the headlights. A tall, limping man in bloody, ripped jeans and a worn leather jacket.

 

**_December 18, 2018_ **

_DEAN_

“Castiel Novak, if I have to eat another cold hotdog on a warm bun, I swear, we’re getting divorced,” I shout from the living room with the aforementioned hot dog in one hand and a napkin with the bite I spit into it in the other.

Cas’s laughter rings out from the kitchen before he emerges, all wet hair and tanned skin and just…edible. “We’re not married so your threats are redundant.” I just nod, only half hearing his words as my eyes eat up the view. With a button-down and dark wash jeans, he’s possibly the hottest human being I’ve ever seen. The jeans hug his ass perfectly, which I take full advantage of when he turns away and heads back into the kitchen. “Just eat the food and maybe you’ll get dessert.”

“Is dessert your ass?” I call back, expecting a snippy reply but getting nothing. Was that too much? Probably. I eat the hot dog anyway as my stomach rumbles, starving from only being fed hot dogs and Cheerio’s for the past week because, apparently, my nurse can’t cook to save his life. Or mine. Good thing he’s such a looker.

There’s more banging around in my kitchen but I don’t bother questioning him, turning on the TV instead and finding a rerun of _Dr. Sexy_ to watch as Luna perches on my lap, her eyes trained on the screen.

I run my fingers through her silky fur absently, so absorbed in the show that I don’t notice Cas in the doorway.

I sniff the air, my eyebrows furrowing. Is that…I look to Cas and almost fucking come in my pants. He leans against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, with a fucking steaming apple pie in his hands. God, I’ve never seen anything so hot in my life. He raises an eyebrow with a smirk. Luna jumps off my lap.

“Is this better than my ass?” He stands straight, crossing the room and setting down two plates before cutting the pie and sitting beside me. My mouth waters.

“A close second,” I mumble, watching as drops of water run down the side of his neck. I lean forward, startling him when I flick my tongue out to catch the drop before it disappears in his shirt collar. He moans, leaning into me as I wrap a hand around his neck and suck hard. I drop my hand to his thigh, loving the moan that escapes his lips as I knead the hard muscle through his jeans. He doesn’t stop me when my hand travels up, my heart thundering in my chest when his fingers graze my waist.

Liquid fire shoots through me as something swells in my chest and I can’t imagine not having him here. For the briefest moment, last nights nightmare flashes in my mind. I know it’s a memory—the images were too vivid to be anything but—but I shove it away, focussing on Cas here and now. On his little moans as my hand travels higher, the way his fingers curl around my waist as I suck harder on the sensitive skin at his neck.

I gently guide him back so we’re laying down, me on top of him and every inch of our bodies pressed together. Every. Inch.

“Dean!” He whines when I roll my hips, his nails biting at my side but I don’t care because a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over me with every movement. His sounds only make me harder, stoking the fire in my groin until I can’t take it. My hand is at his belt, pulling it free of the clasp and loops. He lets me, moving his other hand into my hair as I continue to suck dark bruises on his neck.

Cas’s wild pulse thumps against my lips and I kiss it, loving the reminder that he’s here. He’s alive and this is real. _You didn’t drown, Cas._ Every movement and every sound reminds me. I can live with that.

The sound of his zipper makes him pause, but he doesn’t push me away, reaching instead for the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head before attacking my lips with his. His tongue doesn’t wait to be let in, invading my mouth with hot thrusts as his hips jerk upward. I reach into his jeans, past his underwear, and grip his throbbing cock.

“Oh, God!” Cas groans, his neck arching back on the pillow as his eyes fall shut and his mouth, open. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Definitely better than pie,” I murmur and Cas throws his head back with a laugh, his smile so wide that my heart melts to the floor.

“You haven’t even _tried_ the pie!” He cries indignantly, his hands digging into my shoulder blades and his eyes drooping when I move my fist up his length, running my thumb over the head as spurts of pre-come leak out, slicking my hand.

“You’re not exactly the best cook,” I retort, getting a glare and a scowl. “Besides, _nothing_ is better than you.” Just like that, he’s smiling again, pulling me down for a kiss as he wiggles his jeans and boxers down around his knees.

“Make me come, then eat the pie.” I swear to God, there isn’t a better sentence ever constructed. I grip him hard, undoing my pants and shoving his hand down the front as I jerk him hard and fast. I’m rewarded with a choked yelp and his fingers curling around my aching cock.

“Jeez! Give a girl some warning, would you?” I jump, my eyes shooting over the top of the couch to see Charlie’s scarred look as she whips around and runs back into the entryway. “Come on, Luna. I can’t believe they subject you to this.”

Cas’s head drops back onto the pillow as he closes his eyes, his cheeks darkening to a flush. “You weren’t supposed to come until five,” Cas calls out, removing my hand from his still-throbbing dick and pulling his pants back up with an almost indiscernible wince from the pressure.

“It’s almost six! We’re late!” I can’t help but grin at Cas’s disgruntled face. He has no reply and looks for my shirt instead of acknowledging my grin.

The front door opens and Jo walks around the corner. I’m still on top of Cas but we’re now fully dressed. Charlie is holding Luna, staring down at us with a displeased pinch to her mouth. Cas won’t look me in the eye as his blush deepens and I’m trying like hell to hold back my laughter.

“What’d I miss?”

I lose it, the laughter bursting out of me as Cas shoves me off him and stands. “Nothing,” he grumbles, bending over almost double to hide the tent in his jeans as he fidgets, trying to look like he’s doing something _really_ important.

“Okay,” Jo draws out the word, glancing at Charlie with a raised eyebrow before I push myself up on wobbly legs and grab Cas’s arm, sensing the panic rising inside him as I lead him to the backyard. Jo and Charlie don’t follow, understanding that we need a minute alone.

We sit on the porch steps that lead out to the backyard. Leaves cover the grass, in desperate need of a good raking. I can’t be bothered, though.

“Take a breath, Cas.” He does, resting his temple on my shoulder and inhaling deeply before letting it out in a slow stream of air. “Better?” He nods and I sigh in relief. Crisis averted. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, seeing his face is a little more relaxed—his mouth isn’t pinched so tight and his eyes don’t squint so much. I take his hand in mine, playing with his fingers—tracing the lines on his palm and up each finger.

“I really wish we hadn’t left that pie in there with them,” Cas mumbles and I throw my head back with a laugh, nodding in agreement.

“It’ll be half eaten and cold by now.” A cool breeze moves through the trees, blowing over my bare skin and causing goosebumps to rise as I shiver, but I couldn’t care less, really. This is nice—peaceful.

“I’ll bake you another.” My mouth waters just thinking about it and I bring Cas’s hand to my lips, kissing the pad of his index finger.

“I’m holding you to it,” I whisper with a sly grin, nipping at the tip of his finger and getting a laugh in reward.

His eyes drift over my face with mild concern. “How’s your head?” In all honesty, I could use a nap and a couple of pain pills, but Sammy’s coming home today so I’ll make do with one pill and no nap.

“I could use another pill.” He nods, looking at me for a few moments more before leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek. He stands, reaching a hand down for me to take and pulling me up.

“Only one. We don’t want you falling asleep.” The authority in Cas’s voice stirs my softening erection.

“Yes, Dr. Novak. Whatever you say, sir.” He glares at me but there’s a fire in his eyes that’ll keep me hard for the rest of the night.

We enter the empty kitchen and Cas finds me a pill and a glass of water. I down them, setting the glass in the sink before leaning against the counter and looping my fingers through Cas’s belt loops. Someone has turned on music and a soft tune plays through speakers in the living room.

Cas moves closer, looping his arms around my neck. “This sounds like dancing music to me,” he whispers with a grin and sways his hips playfully.

“Is that your way of asking me to dance with you?” I raise an eyebrow and grin. A soft warmth floods my heart as he moves closer. I shift my hands, moving them around his waist to rest on the curve of his lower back.

“Hmm…maybe.” The whispered word flows across my neck on a soft breath as he rests his cheek on my shoulder. “Is that a yes, then?”

“As if I could ever tell you no.” I take his right hand from around my neck, clasping it loosely in mine as we sway from side to side. “Fair warning—I’m not much of a dancer,” I tell him, loving the grin that stretches across his face.

“Liar,” he whispers and I shrug. Of course, he’d know that about me. I’m a fucking awesome dancer.

“You, on the other hand, if I remember correctly, have two left feet.” He pulls his head back, frowning in confusion.

“No, I can assure you, I have one of each.” Rolling my eyes, I pull him as close as I can get him. The music has changed but neither of us cares enough to move away. It was never about the music, anyway.

“It’s an expression. Means you can’t dance.” Understanding dawns and I laugh, kissing the dark red bruise on his neck before moving my nose into his wild hair. “You smell like me.”

“Mmm, so I smell really good, then.” His eyelids droop as he moves his nose into my neck.

“Yes,” I murmur, savoring the feel of him in my arms. It’s almost surreal, having him here in my house. Especially with all the memories resurfacing—good and bad, alike. I don’t know if I could handle it all without him here; he’s my rock and I’m his. Even as my weakness, he gives me strength.

“So you remember? The dancing, I mean.” His voice is soft and so achingly hopeful. I smile, knowing I can give him this.

“Yes, I remember the dancing. And the stumbling, because I wouldn’t call what you were doing _dancing_.” His mouth pinches up but he can’t hide his grin as he slaps my shoulder playfully and we continue to sway gently to the fast-paced music. The hand I have resting on Cas’s hip pulls him tight against me, pressing every inch of our lower halves together as I smile against his cheek. “I remember it was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen,” I whisper, feeling the heat of his blush against my lips more than seeing it.

“You’re not supposed to think the guy you’re fucking is _adorable_.” He grumbles and I shrug, letting his crass description of us slide. This time.

“Well, maybe it was adorable because I was falling in love with you,” I say with my lips against his ear, feeling his breath hitch. He doesn’t get a chance to respond as Sam’s voice booms over the music.

“You realize you have guests, right? One being your kid brother?” I pull away from Cas with a huge smile on my face as I turn to Sam, pulling him into a hug. “Charlie already told me all about your couch surfing when she got here.” He winks over my shoulder at Cas and I can almost feel the heat of his blush radiating off of him.

“How was the flight?”

“Long. Boring. Gabe didn’t shut up for the entire trip.” He rolls his eyes. “You know, the usual.”

Cas sneaks away to find his own brother, his fingers lightly grazing my hip as he passes. I smile, watching his easy stride as he leaves the kitchen. What's that saying? _Hate to see you leave. Love to watch you go._ Yeah, that’s Cas. _Especially_ , in those jeans.

“How’s school?”

“It’s good! My exams went well. Gabe’s a great teacher—”

“ _Gabe_ is your teacher?” I’m pretty sure my jaw hits the floor as I step back to look at him.

“Well, TA—”

“Sammy! You’re bangin’ the _teacher?_ You _dirty dog!_ ” I laugh a full, belly laugh, throwing my head back just thinking about all the perks he’s weaseled his way into. “You’re bangin’ the teacher. I don’t think I’ve ever been this proud.” I shake my head and chuckle.

“I’m not having sex with him.” Sam’s voice is low and he looks around to make sure no one is listening in. “And he’s not the teacher. He’s the _teacher’s assistant._ ” He enunciates every syllable in _assistant_ , sending me into another fit of laughter.

“You’re not having sex with him _yet_ ,” I clarify with a raised eyebrow and a suggestive wink.

“Jerk,” he shoots at me with a grin.

“Bitch,” I retort, walking by him and slapping him on the shoulder. “Good to have you back, Sammy.”

“So you and Cas are…uh…” If I turned to look at him, I know I’d see the same look I just gave him reflected back at me. So I don’t look at him. Instead, I lean against the entrance to the living room and look at Cas. His smile is easy as he listens to Charlie talk, her hands flying around her head passionately. Cas holds Luna in his arms, petting her absentmindedly as he listens. She nuzzles into him and my heart melts a little.

“Something,” I say so Sam. “Definitely something.” Suddenly, I ache for it as I watch Cas with Luna and Charlie and everyone else I love. I want it so bad it hurts. It swells in my chest until it constricts my throat and squeezes at my heart. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

It’s like the hole inside me is filled when he’s around. The one thing that always seemed to be missing after the accident—even as my memories started to resurface—is finally in place again and I can breathe easy. He is the _thing_. Cas fills the space in my heart.

I can’t speak. I have no words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you loved reading this. Let me know in the comments! Your comments inspire me to write more and I love every single one.


	17. Anything For You

****

**_November 13, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

Dean turns at the sound of his car, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the lights. I sigh in relief as I pull to a stop, feeling so many emotions swell up in my chest that I can hardly breathe. Dean on the other hand only has two emotions written all over his face. Relief…and anger.

The driver’s side door flies open and I flinch from residual fear. He glares down at me. “What the hell, Cas? I told you not to come back!” He’s absolutely seething mad and I just can’t take it—I burst into tears. Big, choking sobs ripping from my throat as everything bubbles over. Dean’s face falls and I cover my eyes with both hands, trying to hide how pathetic I am from him. “Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls me out of the car and holds me to his chest as I sob, stroking my hair in the most soothing way.

“I got lost,” I whimper, sniffling as I lay my head against his beating heart. “And I-I thought you were d-dead.” His arms constrict before releasing me and urging me back towards the car.

“We need to go.” I get in, moving over to let him in next to me, but he just closes the door and walks—okay, _limps_ —to the passenger’s side. The door opens and I scoot back over, looking at him inquisitively. “You drive. I—I can’t.” I nod, swiping at my tears before buckling up.

“I…uh—I don’t know how to get home,” I whisper, gripping the steering wheel as the car rumbles.

“Go straight,” he says before laying his head back against the seat. It’s dark, so I can’t really see his face but black streaks mar his skin—dirt or blood, I don’t know.

I drive, periodically glancing over at Dean to check on him, and my foot presses down harder on the pedal every time. It has become very clear to me that he’s not okay.

“Dean?” I whisper, only vaguely registering our speed as my hands shake on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, Cas?” His voice is a tired murmur pushed past bloody lips with great effort. His breaths wheeze from his lungs and he winces with every one.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” I don’t ask, thinking that he’ll say no if I do. Even now, I’m sure he’ll protest, but he doesn’t, nodding his head and closing his eyes. This scares me even more; he must be really hurt if he’s willing to go get checked out.

I press my foot down harder as I start to recognize our surroundings, thanking whatever God is up there that we aren’t too far out of Lawrence.

“Don’t get pulled over,” Dean mumbles, groaning when he coughs. I nod and slow down a little. Fear doesn’t let me go any slower than double the speed limit, though, because blood glistens on his lip with every cough.

Thankfully, we make it to the hospital and I park in front of the emergency entrance with my heart racing and tears still wetting my cheeks.

“I’ll be okay, Cas. Take a breath.” I nod, still shaking as I force air into my lungs. “Okay…” he swallows thickly. “Now come around and help me out.” I get out on shaky legs, rounding the car and opening the door. “I’m gonna need you to help me out. Put your arm around me…” I do as he says, wrapping my arm around his waist as one of his goes around my shoulders. “Ready?” I nod, bracing myself for his weight and pulling him up. I grunt—he’s _heavy_ —and readjust my hold. A muffled cry escapes him and he presses his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut tight while taking shaky breaths.

“Am I hurting you?” I ask stupidly and cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth.

“Everything is hurting me.” Dean doesn’t let go of me though and actually tightens his grip.

“I could go get a wheelchair,” I suggest, but only get a scathing glare in return. “Okay…no wheelchair.”

When Dean’s out of the way, I shut the door and lock it before slowly helping Dean inside. He curses with every step and his legs give out twice, but we manage to stay standing—barely. All the while my heart pounds as Dean gets weaker and weaker. Blood coats his teeth and bruises mar his face—every inch of his skin is covered in dirt or blood or both.

When we make it inside, Dean collapses to the floor, dragging me down with him.

 

_DEAN_

I open my eyes to a dark room. Everything is fuzzy and heavy and I can only just manage to turn my head. It takes all of my strength to lift my fingers and run them through the head of dark hair that rests beside my hand. He stirs but doesn’t wake and my lips twitch.

I examine him the best I can, looking for any possible injuries and sagging in relief when I find that there are none to see. It makes all of this worth it because _he_ got away— _he’s_ okay.

I’d never tell him this, but hearing the roar of the Impala as Cas sped away was the only thing that gave me the strength to take their punches. I was so Goddamn relieved that I stopped running and let them catch me so they wouldn’t go after Cas. That was all that mattered; Cas was safe.

I wiggle my fingers again, ruffling his hair a little more this time before giving it a soft tug. He grunts, swatting at my hand before opening his sleepy eyes and glaring at me as he lifts his head. His wild hair sticks up all over the place and I smirk as his eyes widen before a shy smile turns up his lips and he attempts to smooth his chaotic bedhead.

“You’re awake,” Cas murmurs, stating the obvious. I don’t respond; the effort it would take to nod is just too big.

“Hey,” I whisper, my voice a rough, scratchy sound. I wince.

“Don’t try to talk, okay?” I just smile, lifting one half of my mouth while closing my eyes. “So…um—the uh, your injuries aren’t that bad, really. Bruised ribs, bruised face, bruised legs…just cuts and bruises, actually.” His cheeks redden in embarrassment and I slide my fingers into his. I expected as much; they wouldn’t do any _real_ damage but they’d make it hurt bad enough to make me think I’m dying. That’s just what Alistair and his men do.

It was good news, actually. I could still play in the game next week, and with all this medicine pumping through me, I won’t even feel a bit of it.

I look back at Cas, who is holding my hand with trembling fingers, and see his wide blue eyes staring back at me. My heart clenches. All the pain inside him bleeds out through his eyes and runs down his cheeks in little streams. With all the strength I have inside me, I bring his hand to my lips and gently kiss his knuckles. The tanned skin is icy cold but I don’t dare to invite him into bed with me. He shouldn’t even be in here at all but I don’t have it in me to make him leave. I want him here.

The crushing weight of realization presses me into the stiff hospital mattress, stealing my breath and sounding alarms all over the place. I need Cas. I don’t just _want_ Cas, or _like_ Cas. I _need_ Cas. His shy smile and red blushing cheeks. His big blue eyes with those adorable glasses. His goofy smile as we sing at the top of our lungs in my car…I need it—all of it—and that, more than anything else, scares me shitless. 

 

_CASTIEL_

**_December 19, 2018_ **

“Dean Winchester, if you try to sneak one more peak inside that bag, I’m going to return it and you won’t get a gift.” I use my sternest voice, but still, Dean’s eyes shine with mischief as he jerks his fingers away from the purple tissue paper.

“Come _on_ , just _one_ hint. Just one? Please?” We’re seated cross-legged on the living room floor with wrapping paper and tape spread out between us as we wrap our families gifts. I glare at Dean, snatching up a roll of paper and bonking him on the knee.

“No. Wait until Christmas.” I look back at the box I’m wrapping, folding the seems precisely and taping it shut. There. Perfect. I look to Dean’s disaster of a wrapping job and shake my head to myself. Of course, he notices.

“What? My wrapping not good enough for mister perfectionist?” He raises an eyebrow challengingly.

“No, as a matter of fact, you wrap presents as if you are a tyrannosaurus-rex.” I keep my expression as impassive as possible as Dean’s face pinches. He doesn’t have a reply, muttering under his breath instead as he tries to fix the unfixable.

“Just gonna rip it off anyway.”

I laugh, nudging his knee with my foot. He grabs it, tugging me across the floor as I yell. “Dean! Let me go!” Laughter rolls out of me—my stomach aches with it and I can’t manage to wipe the smile from my lips. This is so wonderful. _He_ is so wonderful.

In the midst of the pending trial, we haven’t had enough laughter. I’ve been so caught up in worrying that I haven’t made time for this. Dean isn’t sleeping well, either. Whether it’s from his healing concussion, the stress of the trial, or something else, I don’t know. I don’t ask—too afraid to be shut down—and he doesn’t offer. He thinks I don’t notice him leaving the bed in the early hours of the morning—startling awake before getting up—he thinks I can’t tell how tired and spacey he always is…I’d have to be dead not to notice. It’s worrying, but, for now, I cherish the playfulness.

With one foot trapped between his hands, I quickly lunge forward, startling him enough that the leg he has in his grip pins him to the ground. It presses lightly into his chest while the other rests by his head.

I grin so wide my cheeks hurt as he struggles, grunting as he tries to shove me off. “No fair!”

I throw my head back as a laugh bursts from me. “No fair? Life’s no fair!” I shout, maneuvering so his hands are pinned beside his head and I’m sitting astride his chest. He tries his best to break free but I’m a lot stronger than I used to be.

“C’mon, Cas,” he whines with a pitiful pout. “We have presents to wrap.” He tries once more to break free but it’s in vain.

“Oh, so _now_ you want to wrap presents? Is someone a sore loser?” Dean scowls as I grin, his green eyes narrowing into slits. Even grumpy, he’s beautiful. “You _are_ a sore loser, aren’t you?”

He only huffs. The idea that pops into my head next comes from a far-off memory—one that has since been so repressed that I almost don’t believe it to be true. It’s much the same for many of the happy memories with Dean; they almost don’t seem real.

But this one…I have to test it out.

Gripping both his wrists in one hand, I move the other one down to his fully exposed armpit and wiggle my fingers, my grin widening to a full, beaming smile when he jerks, his eyes widening as he starts shaking his head.

“Cas…” There’s no mistaking the warning in his tone. I choose to ignore it, moving my hand down to his ribs and wiggling my fingers there. Another jerk—bigger this time. “I mean it, Cas. Don’t—” I cut him off with a full attack, releasing his wrists and moving both hands wildly over his ribs, under his arms, and around his neck.

Uncontrollable giggles spill from both of us as Dean flails around on the floor, trying to knock me off but never quite managing. By the time I stop, we’re both gasping for air. My stomach aches and a smile stretches my lips.

Something so incredibly light and fluttering settles in my chest. It feels so nice that all I want to do is lay on Dean’s chest and revel in it. So I do, pressing my ear to his pounding heart and soaking in the feeling of complete contentment—of peace. This feeling…so soft and innocent. It’s wonderfully familiar and completely terrifying in the same instant.

This is how dreams are realized. This is how hearts are broken.

“We really should get back to wrapping.” I nod, and lift myself from Dean’s chest, smiling down at his airy grin. I kiss him just because I can, and it doesn’t last long but shivers still race along my skin.

We’re quiet for a while as we continue wrapping, with frequent interruptions in the form of removing Luna from inside the paper or bags or whatever. Eventually, I drag up the courage to speak.

“So…” I pause as Dean looks up at me, his legs spread around the package in front of him with far too much tape attempting to hold it together. “My families coming up for Christmas.”

Dean looks back down at the leather notebook in front of him—a gift for Sam—and nods, not fully catching the gravity of my words, apparently. “That’s good.”

“My _whole_ family, Dean.” Finally, a little of my meaning sinks in as his eyes shoot back to mine.

“By _whole family_ you mean…”

I take a deep breath and fiddle with the tissue paper in the bag in front of me. “Mom, Dad, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins…the whole crew.”

“Wow…” His eyes are wide. He doesn’t know what to say—I can tell that much by the way his mouth opens and closes every few seconds.

“Since I’m back in Lawrence, they want to get everyone together. God knows why…” I shrug, at a loss for words to fill the space. Dean just looks at me for a long time, the notebook forgotten between his legs. He seems to be debating something, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it might be.

Suddenly, his face changes. He nods once. “Okay.” Just the one word, spoken with so much assurance, that I melt totally and completely for him. No questions, no concerns. He’ll be there.

“Thank you,” I whisper, too many emotions swelling inside me to speak any louder. He smiles softly, this look in his eyes that I’m sure matches mine, and nudges my ankle with his toe.

“Hey…anything for you.”

 

“Stop throwing flour at me!” I shout, tossing some back at a grinning Dean as he stands on the other side of the island with flour all over his face and chest. I’m sure I don’t look much different except for the scowl on my face. “This recipe is almost impossible to perfect and if I mess it up, I’ll hear about it every time I see my aunt Hester until next Christmas!” I end on a huff, stirring the mixture in the bowl for precisely two minutes and thirteen seconds.

“I’ll tell her to shove it where the sun don’t shine.” I just roll my eyes, smacking Deans hand with the spoon when he reaches a finger out to dip in the batter.

“Don’t touch,” I snap, flicking his floured nose and trying desperately to hold back my grin as his eyes cross. I turn away, unable to hold it back for any longer. The oven dings and a thrill runs through me. I hop up and down on my toes, wiping my hands on the apron around my waist before grabbing the oven mitts and pulling the first batch of double chocolate cherry truffle cookies from the oven.

My mouth waters as the full force of their aroma hits my nostrils. I can almost taste their gooey center. Almost.

“Get your fingers out of the batter!” I shout, sounding a little insane even to my own ears. I don’t even have to turn around to know that’s what he’s doing and by the clattering of the bowl, I know I’m right.

“Fine fine,” he pouts, plunking down on the stool and crossing his arms like a petulant child. “When can I have one of those?” He asks, pointing at the cookie sheet in my hands.

“When they cool a little,” I say, raising one eyebrow in warning and he holds up both hands.

I turn back to the bowl in front of me, measuring out the cherries to the ounce and chopping them up really fine. This recipe has been in my family for generations and for _years_ I’ve been trying to get it perfect. So far, I've failed, and my aunt Hester never misses an opportunity to let me know it. One year, to avoid the criticism, I didn’t even attempt them, which backfired horribly when I got even _more_ criticism for giving up.

Now it’s become an obsession. I _need_ them to be perfect, even though I know I’ll never succeed. Though I have a feeling they have been perfect for years but my aunt needs to tell _someone_ they aren’t good enough. She’d never tell her sons that, so she settles for her youngest nephew instead.

“Hot, hot, hot!” I whip around, catching Dean with half a cookie in his mouth as he hops around, his eyes watering and his hands flailing.

“I said wait until they cool!” I snap, grabbing a paper towel for him to spit the bite into. He looks at me with a sheepish grin when I hand him the half-melted bite wrapped in paper, his face flushed. I can’t keep the scowl on my face, breaking out in a grin as I shake my head at him. “You…” I can’t even finish that sentence. He is so many things all at the same time and I can’t pick just one.

He blows on the cookie for a few minutes before putting it back in his mouth and chewing slowly. The most obscene moan I’ve ever heard leaves him and I blush the color of the cherries on the counter.

“Holy fuck!” He moans around the cookie. “It’s better than sex, I swear.” He keeps chewing, taking another bite and moaning again. My pants get tighter and tighter with every bite.

I raise an eyebrow. “Really? That’s not how I remember it,” I say under my breath, licking my lips as he sucks the chocolate from his fingertips.

I turn away before I see the heat enter his eyes. I know it’s there, but I have cookies to bake. Dean leaves the kitchen without a word and I focus on the next batch, getting it all measured out and on the cookie sheet before Dean comes back. He’s in a fresh pair of jeans and a light gray hoodie—flour free.

I slide the cookies into the oven and set the timer before turning around and dusting off my hands. I lean against the counter, waiting patiently for the cookies and Dean.

Suddenly, music fills the space, playing softly from the speakers in the corner. Dean sets his phone on the counter as the haunting melody plays. _“I’ve heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don’t really care for music, do you…”_ I laugh and shake my head as he advances slowly, closing his eyes and swaying to the music with each step closer to where I stand.

_“It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift, the baffled king composing Hallelujah…”_ He stands in front of me, his face breaking out in a grin as he reaches around my waist and unties the apron, letting it fall to the floor. I’m frozen to the spot; unable to move or speak or breathe—unable to do anything but stand there and watch him as he sings.

_“Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah.”_ He takes my hands in his, his eyes never leaving mine as he wraps them around his neck before wrapping his own arms around me. I sink into him, breathing in his familiar, much-loved scent. He sings softly in my ear.

_“Your faith was strong but you needed proof, you saw her bathing on the roof, her beauty, and the moonlight overthrew you, she tied you to her kitchen chair, she broke your throne, she cut your hair, and from your lips, she drew the Hallelujah…”_ His lips brush my skin with every word, sending tingles down my spine and warmth to my heart. He starts to sway back and forth as he pulls me closer, pressing every inch of our bodies together. I grip his hair in my fists as emotions swell inside me.

_“Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…”_ Every breath I take is a struggle and yet so, _so_ easy. The warmth of his kitchen envelopes us, making me feel safer than I ever have.

_“Baby I’ve been here before, I know this room, I’ve walked this floor, I used to live alone before I knew you. I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch, love is not a victory march. It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah…”_ My throat thickens as my heart beats faster. Dean’s whispered singing fills a hole inside me I didn’t know was there. It’s so soft and so simple…it’s everything I didn’t know I needed.

_“Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…”_ I pull him closer as tears leak from my eyes and his lips move to my cheek, kissing and singing as he tightens his arms around my waist. His voice catches for half a second. I almost don’t hear it, but he’s so close…

_“There was a time you let me know, what’s real and going on below, but now you never show it to me do you, and remember when I moved in you, the holy dork was moving too, and every breath we drew was Hallelujah…”_ I sniffle, burying my face in his neck as he moves a hand into my hair. _I needed this._ My heart ached from needing it; I just hadn’t noticed until now.

_“Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…”_ The haunting voice continues to sing, but I’m not listening to it. Dean’s is all I hear—low and rough and so beautiful. He really is a good singer.

_“Maybe there’s a God above, and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at somebody who outdrew you, and it’s not a cry you can hear at night, it’s not somebody who’s seen the light, it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah…”_ A faint beeping fills my ears but I ignore it, too caught up in the music and in Dean and all these feelings to worry about anything else. I hold him close and breathe him in as a name connects to the feelings inside me. It’s familiar—a long ago emotion that never really went away—and it’s terrifying, but all I can do is hold on and pray to God he doesn’t let go.

_“Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…”_ I take a deep breath with my nose pressed to his neck.

_“Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…”_ He kisses my cheek. My temple. My forehead.

_“Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…”_ I pull away, meeting his shining eyes with everything laid bare for him to see. He doesn’t shy away from it.

_“Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…”_ Maybe I can say it—maybe it’ll be okay this time. Dean’s small smile lets me know it will be.

_“Hallelujah…”_ As the last note fades into the stillness of the kitchen, I take a deep breath to speak.

“Dean…I—” The fire alarm cuts me off as smoke rises from the oven. My shoulders sag as Dean runs off to find the fire extinguisher. _Well…there goes my chance for this year._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all you lovely people! Sorry for taking so long to update, I've had a busy past few weeks but I hope this chapter made up for it! It's not overly long, I know, but it holds a special place in my heart, so if you liked it, please let me know! I love all of your feedback and observations! Okay okay, I probably won't update again for a bit as I'm moving, but I'll try to update as soon as I can.


	18. Patience Is A Virtue, You Know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I don't know how long it really takes me to move. One day. That's it. Anyway, here is the next chapter (Far sooner than I thought it'd be.) Let me know in the comments what you think or how it made you feel. 
> 
> Also, I've been trying to find new music so if you have any recommendations, please feel free to share them:)

**_November 14, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

I drift in and out of sleep, not really feeling any pain but knowing it’s there. Cas stays with me all through the night, holding my hand—it’s a comfort I didn’t know I needed so I don’t tell him to go home and get some sleep. Yeah, it’s selfish but I’ve never claimed to be anything else.

I practically begged the nurse not to call Bobby. He doesn’t need this right now; not with Sam going off his rocker. Besides, I’m eighteen; I can make my own decisions. Like, right now I’m deciding to watch Cas sleep. His eyes flutter beneath his eyelids and drool leaks from the corner of his mouth onto the otherwise clean sheets. Strands of his dark hair fall across his forehead. Some might say he needs a haircut, but I won’t. More to grab onto.

His fingers are limp in mine, relaxed with sleep, but I hold them anyway, marveling at how tanned he is despite how little time he spends outside. Pen marks mar his fingers—r1ed and blue. I smile despite myself.

He stirs, his nose scrunching up as he turns his head into the mattress, rubbing his face into it. _He’s so freaking adorable_. God, it’s cheesy but sometimes I wonder how I could’ve ever _not_ thought that way.

He jerks up, blushing as he wipes the drool from his mouth with his sleeve. “Sorry,” he mumbles and I shrug, playing with his fingers as he wipes the sleep from his eyes and tries in vain to flatten his bedhead.

“Are you hungry?” I whisper, my voice still rough and my throat still sore. Before he can answer, there’s a knock at the door. I pull my hand from Cas’s and he stands, moving to the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

The door cracks open. “Dean?” When she sees that I’m awake, she smiles and opens the door wider. “You have visitors.” She steps aside and my eyes widen in horror as the entire football team barrels in. My heart leaps into my throat, pounding wildly and I pray to God and everything else in the universe that Cas doesn’t walk back out that door. This is a disaster waiting to happen.

“Dude! Who’d you piss off?” Mikey asks, slapping my shoulder and plunking down in the chair Cas recently vacated. I wince but he doesn’t notice.

“Who do we have to hurt,” Lucas cracks his knuckles, a malicious grin on his face as he stands at the end of the bed.

I just shake my head. “If I couldn’t kick their asses, sure as shit none of you can either.” I lay my head back on the pillow as I wait for the bathroom door to swing open. The seconds tick by, but it doesn’t. Maybe Cas heard them?

“What about _all_ of us? Bet we could get the job done.” Zach sits on the bed beside Mike, jumping up immediately with a look of disgust. “Why the hell is the bed wet? You been jerkin’ off in here?” A sly grin curves his thin lips. “Hot nurse?”

I shake my head on a small laugh. “Spilt my water,” I lie easily, watching as he takes a seat a few inches down the bed from Cas’s drool. I start to calm down a little as we talk and Cas never emerges from the bathroom, relaxing into the easy banter with my buddies and not worry about Cas being discovered.

That is, until Uri brings him up. “You know who you remind me of right now?” I raise an eyebrow, not seeing where he’s going with this at first.

“Frankenstein?” I guess, getting a laugh from the guys.

“Well, him too.” He leans against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other and folding his arms over his chest. “Castiel, when we used to kick the shit out of him.” A reminiscent look crosses his face like he’s remembering the good ol’ days. I feel sick, bile rising in my throat as I remember what we did to Cas.

“Why don’t we do that anymore? He was always such a fun little punching bag.” Mike looks at me, searching my face for an answer. “I noticed you took the Facebook page down, too. Why?”

I shrug, playing it off as no big deal. “Got bored of it. Besides, Cas is helping me out.”

“Helping you out? Why the hell would he do that?” Lucas lays on the bed, right across my bruised legs. I kick him in the ribs and he scowls at me but gets up.

“Metrat is making him tutor me for English. If I don’t make a passing grade, I can’t play in the state finals, so I figured we should give him a break—at least until I pass, anyway.” I grin, feeling sick to my stomach even thinking about hurting Cas again. I can’t think about it now; a problem for another time.

“Hey, can I use the bathroom?” Adam gets up from the bed, walking to the bathroom before I can answer,

“No!” I shout, my heart racing wildly as he reaches for the handle. He stops, looking at me like I’ve gone nuts before trying to turn the knob. It only rattles and a sigh of relief whooshes out of me. I can't help it. “It’s locked. Someone’s coming by later to fix it.”

He just nods, a frown turning down his lips and furrowing his eyebrows. He leaves the room, going in search of the one down the hall.

“What’s up with you?” Mike asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he scowls.

“Nothing. Meds make me loopy.” I give him my best dopey smile and he laughs, kicking his dirty boots up on the bed beside me. I glare at them but he doesn’t notice.

“You’ll have to get me some of those,” he winks, nudging me with the toe of his boot. “When’re you getting out of here?”

I shrug. “Later today, probably.” I have no idea, really. We talk for a while longer, Zach telling us all about the hot nurse that was—supposedly—checking him out in the hall and Lucas talks about the upcoming game. After a while, I get tired of it all and they leave, closing the door behind them. I wait a solid ten minutes before calling Cas out of hiding.

“Cas?” The bathroom door creaks open and his head peaks out, looking around and seeing that it’s only me. I offer him a small smile, holding my hand out for him to come closer. He does, albeit slowly. He’s more reserved—turned inward on himself. Every step he takes his cautious and it breaks my heart.

“Are you really just being nice?” His voice is a mere whisper, full of disappointment. I try to find the words to tell him no—to tell him it’s so much _more_ than that. These feelings I have inside me are so much more. But I’m not the one with a way with words—that’s all him.

He takes my silence as an affirmation and his face falls. He doesn’t yell or scream or anything. He doesn’t even look at me as he turns towards the door.

“Cas, wait—” But he’s already at the door. “No!” He halts, not turning around but not moving away either. “No, I wasn’t just being nice.” He’s torn; I can tell by the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot, his head lowered in deliberation. My heart thunders in my chest as I continue to speak, my voice rough from overuse. “It’s what they needed to hear to leave you alone.”

“What about after?”

“After?”

“After state finals. When I’m not your tutor anymore.” That’s where I haven’t figured it out yet.

“I haven’t thought that far yet but we’ll figure something out. Maybe you can tutor me in another class?” I shrug—it’s actually not a bad idea.

“Or maybe you could just tell them to stop.” His voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

“I can’t; they’d never listen.”

“Then _make_ them listen!” He whirls around, staring me down from across the room and making me feel like the biggest piece of shit. “You’re a lot stronger than all of them.”

“They’re my _friends_ , Cas!” I snap when I fully grasp his meaning.

“And they’re my _family_ but that doesn’t seem to matter too much to them!” He throws his arms out to his side as his face and neck flush with anger. I’m sure I look much the same, but guilt swells in my chest where I’m sure it doesn’t in his. “You’ve made my life _miserable_ for years, Dean. _Years!_ Just…” His hands drop limply to his sides in defeat. “If you actually care, please do this for me; I need some peace.”

The look that bleeds into his eyes sends fear shooting through me. I’ve seen that look in him before…I’ve seen it a few times now. I hate it.

I nod, biting my lip to hold back the fears that threaten to spill out. My chest aches and I suddenly need to feel him near me. Touching me. I need to feel that he’s here and real and not going anywhere.

I swallow thickly, holding my hand out to him in the neediest way, begging him with a look, not to refuse me. I’m so fragile right now—It’s embarrassing—but this is _Cas_.

He gives me what I ask for, closing the door behind him and walking to the side of the bed. He goes to sit in the chair but I pull him in beside me, curling my arms around him and holding him close. I breathe him in, closing my eyes as his sweet, honey shampoo invades my nose. It’s my most favorite smell in the world, I think. I run my fingers through his hair, gently untangling the knots when my fingers catch and smoothing it back down.

He turns his head into my neck, resting his lips on my throat in a way that has my blood pumping faster. I pull him closer, feeling his warmth radiate against me.

I’ll figure something out. I have to because I can’t lose this. Not Cas. I don’t know when or how yet, but I’ll figure it out. Cas twines his legs through mine and I think to myself, _I could lose anything in the world, but not this_.

 

**_December 20, 2018_ **

_DEAN_

I push the cart down the aisle as Cas stands on the back, stuffing cookies into his mouth from a box we have yet to pay for. I just shake my head; there’s no changing him. But why would I want to?

We reach the dairy section and my eyes lock on the eggnog. I grin, scooping up twelve and placing them in the cart. I pause. _The stores won’t be open for a few days!_ I grab six more.

I catch Cas’s eye-roll from the corner of my eye. “What?” I ask, looking at him with genuine confusion. What’s wrong with eggnog?

“You have _eighteen_ cartons!” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” Oh crap! “You’re right,” I say, watching as he sags in relief. “I forgot about Sammy.” I grab twelve more, watching as his jaw drops and I can only laugh. What can I say? The Winchester boys love their eggnog.

Cas doesn’t comment again, stuffing another cookie in his mouth to hold back the snide remark, I’m sure. We move on to the next section, picking up the ingredients for stuffing. “So my family will be here on boxing day. We’re going to my aunt's house.” I glance up when I hear the tone in his voice. He’s nervous—chewing on his bottom lip as he picks at a nail, the cookies tossed back into the cart.

“Are we bringing anything?” I ask, hating the way his eyes fill with relief with the _we_. He still doubts me, but how can I blame him? I haven’t exactly given him reason to believe in me.

“Well…the cookies.” He gives me a look and I grin. “I guess we could bring some wine or something.” I nod, grabbing the stuffing bread off the shelf and tossing it into the cart. For whatever reason, I agreed to host Christmas dinner at my house this year. Only God knows why, but I have a feeling there were a few too many beers involved. _Damn you, Charlie Bradbury!_

I yawn, feeling the lack of sleep catching up with me. My feet drag as I push the cart and my eyes droop. I know Cas notices, but he doesn’t mention it and I’m thankful for that. I don’t want to talk about the nightmares. Or memories because those are nightmares, too. They wake me in the middle of the night and no matter how hard I try, I can’t manage to coax my tired brain to sleep.

On the bright side, I’ve gotten so much done. Cas’s Christmas present is almost ready because of all the time I’ve been able to dedicate to it. I’m starting to think getting up early is the way to go, even if I do love sleeping in on my days off. Besides, you can’t have nightmares if you don’t sleep.

So I drag myself through the days, my exhaustion clearly showing on my face. Maybe I should get some sleeping pills? I can’t exactly go into work like this, but I guess I’ll worry about that when I actually get cleared to go back to work.

We pick up the rest of the groceries and head for the checkout, Cas getting a scathing glare from the cashier when he sets down the half-empty box of cookies, but he doesn’t even give her a second glance. I roll my eyes on a grin, taking up the bags on both arms and heading out into the freezing rain.

I’ve never regretted parking so far from the entrance so much. By the time we get inside, we’re soaked to the bone and shivering. I crank the heat, feeling the daggers aimed at the side of my head as Cas warms his frozen fingers on the vent. His teeth chatter audibly as he sheds his overcoat, tossing it into the back seat and buckling up as I pull out of the parking lot.

“I’m taking a bath in that giant tub of yours when we get home,” Cas says through his teeth, shoving his hands under his legs to warm them.

I laugh, thinking that sounds like a wonderful idea.

 

I send Cas in to run us a bath while I put away the groceries, grinning the entire time. I’m still freezing but heat starts to bloom in my stomach, spreading into my extremities as I think about Cas’s wet, naked body pressed up against mine.

When the food is away, I practically run for the bathroom, stripping as I go and leaving a trail of wet clothes all the way down the hall. Cas is just taking off his clothes when I enter and he looks over his shoulder at me with a grin. I take in the view as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, letting it fall off his shoulder as best he can—wet shirts tend to stick—before he unbuttons his jeans and shoves them to the floor. I’m practically naked, clad only in my boxers as I watch him tease me. Not even the chill in my bones can stop my cock from hardening in anticipation.

When he’s stripped to his boxers, he stops, shutting off the tap and feeling the water. I wait, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest and a very obvious tent in my underwear. Cas looks over his shoulder with a smirk and winks before pulling down his boxers and displaying his perfectly round ass. My fucking mouth waters. I think I might have let out a moan too if Cas’s startled expression is anything to go by. He looks so pleased with himself. Damn him.

Following his lead, I slowly drag my boxers down, feeling the elastic catch on my cock before it springs free, standing tall and proud for Cas to look at. And he does look—he can’t seem to look away.

With every step closer, his eyes widen, taking me in. His chest rises and falls in quick movements and his breaths come in shallow pants. When I reach him, he’s almost hyperventilating, his face flushes and his eyes roam all over me. My heart swells with something familiar. It’s soft and sweet and dammit if it doesn’t make me want to kiss him.

So I do. Once. It’s soft and quick—right on the lips—before I pull away and get into the too-hot water, sinking down and holding my hand out to Cas. He takes it, stepping in carefully before lowering himself down. I groan internally when he sticks his ass in my face. It’s not intentional—he’s just trying to sit—but all I can think of his grabbing his hips and burying my tongue in his sweet hole.

He settles between my spread legs, his ass pressing right up against my aching dick. _I could bury something else in that sweet hole, too._ He leans back, resting his head on my shoulder as I run my fingers through his hair. I kiss his cheek, careful not to move too much and splash water over the edge.

“Hey, Cas?” Cas hums, turning his head to meet my eyes. “What do you think Luna does all day?” A laugh bursts from his chest and that rare, beautiful smile spreads across his face. He raises an eyebrow and sinks lower in the water.

He thinks about it, deciding to humor me. “Well…she probably sleeps a lot. And eats—she eats a lot, too.” His hands slide slowly up and down my thighs in an unconscious move that drives me nuts. “She probably plays with her toys…I don’t know,” he sighs.

“We should set up a camera to see.” I nod. Yeah, that’s an idea.

“Do you really want to watch twelve hours of Luna doing nothing?” He raises an eyebrow at me and I think about it, deciding I probably don’t.

“Yeah, you’re right.” We sit in silence for a while, just enjoying the warmth of the water and each others company. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He says with mock exasperation, expecting another ridiculous question.

“Why’d you stop writing?” He stiffens against me for a moment before relaxing again on a heavy sigh. He shrugs and my heart sinks.

“My book was rejected.” He doesn’t explain for a minute—gathering his words, I guess. “I took it to a publisher in Los Angeles and he told me it wasn’t worth reading.” Another shrug. “I couldn’t take any more hits so I just…stopped.”

The thought of someone telling Cas he’s not good enough makes my blood boil. It was his only dream and he gave up on it for what? One asshole who told him he sucked? If there’s one thing I remember from before the accident, it’s Cas’s writing. And, yeah, maybe I’m not the _best_ judge, but coming from a guy who’s never read an entire book in his life, Cas’s writing is damn good. I couldn’t put it down.

“Can I read it?” I ask with only a little hesitation in my voice. He doesn’t answer right away so I take that as a _no_ and drop the subject.

“It’s in my stuff at my mom’s house. I’ll get her to bring it all when they drive up.” I can tell he doesn’t want me to, but at the same time, there’s a hint of excitement in his voice. It’s small but it’s there.

“Is there anything else you want to get done today?” I ask, knowing he’s got a list a mile long.

“We have the rest of the presents to wrap and Christmas cards to send,” I sag, wanting to do absolutely _none_ of that. “But they can wait until tomorrow.” He takes my hand in his. “Can I ask you for something?”

“Of course. Anything,” I answer right away, knowing that whatever it is, it’s his. My heart jumps in my chest when he rolls over, looking me in the eyes as he wraps his hand around my still aching erection.

“Can we…” He swallows hard, looking down at his hand on me. He takes a deep breath and pushes the words out in a rush of air. “Can you fuck me like you used to?”

The air freezes in my lungs, choking me. I cough, more turned on now than I ever have been in my life.

“No,” I say and his face falls, so I quickly add, “I never just _fucked_ you, and I never will.” He swallows hard once—twice—before meeting my gaze and smiling.

“Okay…but will you…”

“Oh, fuck yes.” I grin, standing up and pulling him out of the tub with me. We dry off quickly before I attack his mouth, kissing him like I’ve never kissed him before. His hot chest presses into mine and our hands are all over the place, grabbing and pulling and touching. I steer him towards the bed, coaxing him to lay back when his knees hit the side. He does, pulling me down with him before scooting back to lay in the middle.

His tongue delves into my mouth, massaging mine in a way that sends fire right to my groin. I moan, rolling my hips against his leg. His hands move down my back, feeling every dip and curve along the way and sending wave after wave of tingles down my spine.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this worked up in my life—not that I can remember, anyway. Every inch of me aches for him, needing to feel him surrounding me.

I break the kiss but don’t move more than a breath away. His eyes open, meeting mine with lust blown pupils and nothing but heat. He wants this—I can tell—but I need to hear the words one more time.

“You’re sure? Tell me no and I’ll stop.” He doesn’t answer right away, his breaths coming in heavy pants as his hands find a place to rest on my hips.

“I’ve never wanted it so bad in my life.” I search his face for any sign of hesitation but there’s nothing that tells me he’s even a little bit unsure.

I nod. “Okay, flip over.” I sit back to give him room but he doesn’t move. Something flashes in his eyes for the briefest moment but it’s gone too fast for me to catch. He shakes his head.

“Like this,” he says and moves so he’s in the center of the bed with his head on the pillow. I don’t argue; I’d much rather see his face when he comes, anyway.

He pulls me down to him, holding my cheeks in both hands and sealing our lips. It’s hot and desperate and so passionate that I’m at the edge before he’s even laid a finger on me. His fingers dance over my spine, sending shivers along my skin as I move my lips down to his sweaty neck, biting and sucking my way to his collar bone and relishing the sounds that leave him.

“More, Dean. Please, more,” he begs, his eyes meeting mine. They shine with desperation as my tongue circles one of his nipples before moving to the other.

“Like this?” I ask, skimming my fingers along his muscled thighs. He gasps, shaking his head as his eyes fall shut.

“More.” I tsk, making my way slowly down his torso. I drag my tongue over his belly button, circling it slowly and driving him wild in the process. “ _More_ ,” he whines, thrusting his hips impatiently.

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” I smirk, baring my teeth against his hip bones and skimming along them to where they meet in the middle.

“What would you know about virtues?”

I laugh, throwing my head back before gazing at his grumpy face fondly. “More than you, apparently.” He grumbles but doesn’t say any more so I move my lips back to his delicious hipbones, finishing my perusal before I can’t take the waiting anymore, either.

I grab the brand-new bottle of lube from my nightstand and set it down where I won’t lose it before kneeling between his legs and bending his knees. His dick is hard against his stomach—long and thick. God, he’s so fucking _hot_. My mouth waters as I bend towards it, licking a long, wet stripe from root to tip and relishing in the way his hips buck as a breath whooshes out of him. I grin, doing the same thing again before sucking the head into my mouth. He grunts, running his hands over his chest and down his stomach before they find their way into my hair.

I grip him in one hand, feeling the smooth, slightly wet skin beneath my fingers as I jerk him slowly and tongue his slit, circling the tip before taking him all the way to the back of my throat. He moans, pressing his head back into the pillow in a way that has my dick swelling even more, the pressure bordering on painful. His hands shake in my hair, giving it a little tug when I take too long to move. I smile around him, setting a steady rhythm that has him whispering a litany of curses.

I pull away and reach for the lube, slicking up two fingers before taking him back in my mouth and propping one of his feet on my shoulder as I suck his dick, moving my fingers to his puckered hole and circling it, spreading the lube before gently pressing one finger inside.

A whimper escapes him and he gives my hair a sharp tug, pulling a moan of pain from my lips and sending sweet vibrations up his cock. He tugs again, grinding his hips as I press my finger deeper inside. I thrust slowly at first, curling my finger to stretch him out before adding another. This one has him wrapping his leg around my head to keep my mouth on him.

“God, I forgot how good you are at this,” he whispers before a low mewl escapes him as I scissor my fingers inside him.

Every sound he makes has heat pooling below my stomach, making my cock jump as my legs start to shake. By the time I get a third finger inside, he’s writhing on the bed, this head pressed so far into the pillow I can’t see his face. But I hear him—God, do I hear him.

I pull off his cock with a pop and kneel between his legs to see his face. His eyes are open now, wide and waiting. His breaths come quickly as he urges me along.

I chuckle. “Impatient?”

“If you aren’t inside me within the next sixty seconds, I’m going to scream.” He’s dead serious too.

I roll my eyes, reaching for the lube and pouring it on my hand to warm before coating my dick. It jumps in my hand and pleasure courses down my spine—I have to squeeze the base to stop myself from coming all over him. I close my eyes and force myself to take deep, steadying breaths. Cas wiggles impatiently.

“I’m going to come before I even get inside you. Stop moving.” He huffs but complies and I take another few seconds before opening my eyes and reaching for his ankles, positioning his feet on my shoulders before lining myself up to his hole. “Ready?”

“I’m going to kill you,” he whispers with a glare. I wink before pressing forward. Oh God, he’s fucking tight. So fucking _tight!_ His hole tightens around me in a death grip, trying to push me out as Cas wriggles uncomfortably beneath me.

“Relax,” I whisper, running my hand up and down his thigh as I thrust shallowly. He tries but his mouth is all pinched and his nose scrunches up in pain. I stop moving, letting him adjust to the stretching as I try my hardest to not just shove all the way in. After a minute, his face relaxes a little. “Okay?”

“Yes, keep going.” His voice is a breathy whisper and a low moan leaves him when I start to move again. I reposition his legs, moving them so his knees fold over my shoulder. Looking down, I see that I’m halfway in and I pull out a little before thrusting in slowly. My eyes fall shut from the intensity of the pleasure. Holy fuck…

“You feel so fucking good,” I whisper, thrusting in a little harder and getting a stuttered moan in response. Almost there. I can’t even look at him because…fuck—this is _my_ Cas. _Finally_ , after so long, I get to be this close to him again. I get to feel him wrapped around me in the most intimate way possible. I can feel it inside me—that fear that I didn’t even know was there—the fear that I’d never get this again—I can feel it easing, and with it, comes the desperation. I _need_ to have him—all of him. Now. I start to thrust harder, losing control…

“Dean…it hurts.” The words are barely audible past our heavy breaths but I freeze immediately, meeting his eyes and seeing the pain, but also seeing the pleasure. I chastise myself for not thinking of Cas.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He debates it—I see it on his face and I start to pull out—but he shakes his head. “No, just…give me a minute.” I nod, not daring to shift even the tiniest bit as Cas takes deep, calming breaths, closing his eyes and readjusting his legs a little. Eventually, he opens them again and nods.

I pull out a little more before thrusting the rest of the way in, sucking in a sharp breath as a cry escapes Cas when I hit his prostate. I give him a moment to adjust to the feeling of fullness, taking that time to calm myself down enough so I don’t immediately explode inside him.

I start to thrust; slowly at first before finding a rhythm that has Cas’s knees shaking and moans tumbling from his lips. With every movement, the burning grows until I’m consumed by Cas and this feeling. I grip his thighs with both hands, digging my nails in as I pick up speed, not even hearing the sounds I make anymore.

Leaning forward, I fold Cas practically in half as I find his lips with mine. I need to kiss him. I _need_ to. It’s like a burning in my veins. So I do, moving my lips against his with everything I feel inside me. He takes it all and gives it back tenfold as he starts to whimper against my lips. I know he’s close, so I move a hand between us, wrapping my fingers around his weeping cock and jerk it with hard, slow thrusts. He bites my lip hard enough to draw blood as I pound into him, feeling my own orgasm coming.

“Fuck, Cas!” I shout as my rhythm breaks and I just start thrusting wildly into him, feeling his muscles contract around me, squeezing the orgasm out. I come, filling him with hot semen as he throws his head back on a shout, coming all over my fingers and his stomach. I continue to move both my hand and my hips, drawing out the pleasure until it’s tinged with pain.

Cas’s wrecked eyes meet mine as I let his legs fall to the sides and collapse on his chest, listening to his racing heart as I move my hands through his sweat-soaked hair until our breathing calms.

This is usually the point where I would get up, find a washcloth and clean us both off, but I just can’t bring myself to leave him. Not with these feelings swelling inside me as I kiss along his neck. Not while his fingers trace patterns on my back with light fingertips. Not when I feel like I could stay like this forever, here with him.

 

_I shove the trees out of my way as best I can, my feet catching on fallen branches and dead stumps, tripping me up in my haste. But I keep moving—I have to._

_Fear claws at my throat as I push myself onward._ I need to get to him. _It’s all I can think as I move faster and faster, my breaths heavy and almost painful as branches slap at my face and cut my cheeks. I don’t even feel the blood dripping off my chin._

 _Suddenly, I break through the trees and I see him, my heart sinking as I skid to a halt. He’s already in the water, wading deeper and deeper with his arms raised in the air._ He doesn’t want this—he can’t want this.

 _Tears start to fill my eyes as I watch, helpless from the shore. There’s nothing I can do now—no way to save him. “Cas!” I cry, desperate now. He’s doesn’t stop—doesn’t even look back—as I call his name. My heart stops when his head disappears beneath the surface and never reemerges._ He can’t swim.

_“Cas? Cas! No, Cas!” I start to go after him but arms wrap around me and hold me back—pull me away. “No! Cas!”_

 

I choke on a scream as my eyes snap open to the dark room. It’s quiet—eerily, so—but if I listen close enough, I can hear Cas’s soft, even breaths beside me. _He’s okay. He’s here._ Even so, I can still see him walking into the water. I can feel the helplessness—taste the salty tears. Feel the arms dragging me away.

I sit up and rub my eyes with the heel of my hands. I won’t be getting any more sleep tonight—this I know for sure—so I crawl out of bed as quietly as possible and leave the room, closing the door behind me with Cas and Luna inside.

In the kitchen, I drag a chair to the counter and step up on it, reaching to the back of the highest cupboard, my hands skimming the top before they hit the cold metal. I sigh, grabbing ahold of it and getting down. I don’t bother moving the chair back before making my way to the porch and finding my place on the stairs, looking out over the backyard. It’s dark…quiet and there’s a chill in the air but I relish it. I need to feel something else—something besides the creeping feeling that something bad is coming—that something bad has already arrived.

I open the flask and take a long pull, feeling the familiar burn of whiskey slide down my throat and warm my insides. I need to feel that the _something bad_ isn’t _me_.


	19. I Deserve You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a whole lot of nothing to do today so this is what happened. Yes, it's long. Yes, I only posted a few days ago. Yes, I have real anxiety over it. Show me some love in the comments? Let me know literally any thought you had on this? 
> 
> Okay, love y'all!

**_November 19, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

Besides a slight limp, my injuries are all but gone and the doctor gave me the go-ahead to play tonight. Those are all good things, but they’re not the reason for the permanent little smile on my face as I walk through the halls. Well, not _entirely_ the reason.

Cas is coming to watch tonight. For some reason, my stomach flutters every time I think about it. He’ll be there, in the stands, cheering me on—even if he has no idea what’s going on. Yeah, just picturing him in the front row—maybe with some popcorn or something—and smiling at me from the stands makes me smile.

This is how Sam finds me—standing at my locker with the door open, just looking blankly inside with a stupid grin on my face.

“Did you take too many pills this mornin’?” I glance at him, noting the bloodshot eyes and pale skin. He’s fucking high as a kite. My smile drops.

“Did you?” I ask, grabbing his chin and tilting his head up to get a better look at his eyes. His pupils are blown. Fuck.

He shakes me off and dodges my question with one of his own. “Got a hot date tonight?” He gives me a lopsided grin and readjusts his bag on his shoulder. His clothes hang off his lean form—made too thin by too many drugs and not enough food.

“I have a game.”

“Oh! Speaking of, I won’t be able to make it tonight. Sorry.” He shrugs, refusing to meet my eyes as I narrow them on him.

“I thought you were sitting with Cas? You know, keep him company? Explain the game?” Sam’s eyebrows furrow.

“Since when is Cas coming? And since when are you friends?”

I huff, rolling my eyes and deciding not to answer his second question. “Since I asked him yesterday. We talked about it last night, remember?” He shrugs and pulls out his phone, shooting off a quick text before slipping it back in his pocket.

“I’ll be there, I guess.” He walks away without another word and I watch as he meets up with a group of people at the end of the hall, wrapping his arm around a dark-haired girl and kissing her cheek—Ruby. God, I fucking hate her.

I turn away before I can’t stop myself from chasing after them and strangling her, thinking instead of Cas. I calm down almost instantly, feeling the adrenaline leave my veins as the smile comes back—smaller—but back all the same.

It widens a little when I grab my English textbook and lock my locker before heading off to the last class of the day.

I rub my hip as I limp down the hall, feeling it ache with every step. God, I hope it doesn’t fuck up my game.

When I step into the classroom, I see a few things happening that sour my mood immediately. One—some asshole is standing on a chair, holding a few sheets of paper above Cas’s head while he tries to reach for it as the class laughs. Two—there are others holding him down—hurting him, if the look on his face is anything to go by. Three—the kid is reading the paper.

My whole body flushes as I realize that’s _my_ paper. My book report that I left with Cas to finish editing last night.

I don’t even think.

First is the kid holding Cas’s arms behind his back. He doesn’t even see me coming before he drops to the floor like a fucking rock. Just one punch to the side of his head. Fucking pussy. The second one runs—smart.

I have the one on the chair slammed against a desk faster than he can stop reading, one hand around his neck. We’re nose to nose and his eyes are wide with terror but he doesn’t dare to move.

“Good way to make an enemy out of me by reading my paper to the class. Is that what you want?” My voice is low and even but there’s an edge to it that he doesn’t miss. He shakes his head frantically and I shove him off the desk. He hits the floor with a thud and I pick up my paper, noticing the red pen marks as I fold it and shove it in my back pocket.

Cas catches my eye when I sit down, mouthing _sorry_. I look him over, noticing the way he rubs at his wrists. They’re red and sore looking but other than that, he just looks upset. I shake my head, looking away before we get caught.

Metrat walks in a few minutes later and gawks at the kid on the floor. He’s still unconscious and bleeding from his cheek.

“What the hell happened?” No one answers; they know better.

 

The rest of the hour is spent trying to ignore the stares burning into me from all directions. I can feel them judging—wondering and making their own assumptions. I know I shouldn’t have done anything, but dammit! It’s _Cas!_ Even thinking about it now, I know I wouldn’t have reacted any other way if I’d put a little more thought into what I was doing.

I practically launch out of my chair when the bell rings, hurrying out of the classroom before Metrat can call me back. I wince as my hip protests, but I don’t slow down, pushing through the crowds to get to my locker. I throw my books in and grab my jacket before heading for the field house.

He can chew me out, out there.

I push through the doors and find myself alone on the walkway. I slow down, resting my legs a little before the game, and stop at a tree, leaning against it and swinging my leg back and forth to loosen it up. My hip pops with every swing and I wince but it feels a little better.

“Dean?” I jump at the sound of my name, whipping around to see Cas’s startled face. My shoulders relax and I sigh. “I’m sorry,” he blurts. “I tried to keep it away from him but they were so…” He throws his hands out at his sides, his eyes wide and flustered—terrified, I realize.

“Cas…Cas, it’s _okay_.” I reach out to touch him before pulling my hand back; thinking better of it.

“Really?” He looks so surprised; liked I’d actually blame _him_ for those assholes treating him like crap. It breaks my heart.

“Yeah, of course. It’s not your fault.” I glance up at the sound of the door opening and shove Cas behind me. “Get behind the tree,” I hiss as Mike and Lucas walk out with a couple girls on each side, but they’re too busy reveling in the attention to notice me standing in the shade of the branches. I sigh in relief when they round the corner of the field house, heading for the bleachers where the cheerleaders are warming up.

I turn back to Cas and lean close. “You’ve gotta get out of here. Sam’s coming to the game; he’ll sit with you. I don’t dare to touch him before sending him off. He goes, sneaking away into the greenhouse with only a nod. I smile, hiding in the shadows as I watch him go.

 

_CASTIEL_

I tend to my flowers for a few hours as Dean warms up and gets ready for the game. I want to watch so badly but I don’t dare, too afraid someone will decide to use me for tackling practice. So instead, I wait for Dean to text me.

When my phone does finally ring, my heart leaps and I scramble to pick it up. “Hello?” I answer, slightly out of breath. I wipe the sweat from my forehead with dirty fingers and take a seat in one of the chairs.

“Hey, I don’t have long.” Dean’s voice is low and I can hear the muffled shouts of the rest of the team. He must have stepped outside. “Sam’s at the concession stand, he’s got money, so get whatever you want, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling my heart lurch again, this time more from nerves than excitement.

“It’ll be okay—stop worrying.” I smile and nod even though he can’t see me. “I’ll see you out there.” He hangs up without another word but I’m left with a grin on my lips all the same.

I clean up my station and head out in search of Sam. He’s not hard to find and he spots me quickly, waving me over. He doesn’t smile but he doesn’t seem overly unhappy either. His eyes are bloodshot and dark circles sit below them. He hands me a twenty dollar bill without a word and leads me to the line. I don’t say anything but inside, my heart flutters with happiness. I decide on popcorn, ordering a small and paying with Dean’s money before turning to Sam to lead the way.

He says nothing as he leads us to the front row of the bleachers. All eyes are on me—at least, it feels that way—as we sit. I hold my popcorn close and stare at my shoes. Sam is on his phone, tapping out text after text as we sit, waiting for the cheerleaders to stop cheering and for the football team to run out.

A strange mix of excitement and nerves swirls in my stomach. I pick at my popcorn and I can’t help the smile that tilts my lips.

“So…you and Dean are friends, then?” My head snaps around at Sam’s words but he’s not looking at me so he doesn’t see the blush heating my cheeks. I look away quickly and scan the field, looking for nothing in particular.

“I wouldn’t call us _friends_ , per se. I tutor him.” My voice sounds shaky even to my own ears and I kick myself for it.

“Hmm,” Sam hums, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. “Then why’d he invite you to a game?”

I shrug easily, having already practiced this answer while tending to my roses. “He wants me to see what all the tutoring is for.” I can feel his eyes on the side of my face but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything more as music blasts from hidden speakers and the opposing team runs onto the field. I watch them without much interest until the music changes and the cheerleaders start to dance, Lisa, leading them on. The crowd goes wild as the team runs through a banner with their helmets held high above their heads.

I see Dean immediately—he’s the first to come through after the mascot—and he glances over, meeting my eyes with a wink before turning back to the field. Butterflies swarm in my stomach, curling my toes and sending delighted shivers down my spine. I shove a handful of buttery popcorn in my mouth as the announcer calls off names. We stand, the national anthem is played, and they begin.

If I’m being completely honest, I have no idea what’s going on, but I don’t think that would be a monumental surprise to anyone. I just watch Dean, my eyes never straying from him as he runs. I cheer with the crowd and smile so wide it hurts.

Sam tries to explain what’s happening for a bit but then he gets so absorbed in his phone that he forgets to fill me in. That’s okay, though, because I don’t need to know. For just a moment, I forget who I am and who these people are to me…I forget that I want to disappear and be forgotten…I forget it all and I’m carried away on this feeling.

Dean scores what Sam calls a ‘touchdown’ and the crowd cheers. He points in our direction as he runs by and Sam points back but he’s looking at me. Warmth floods my chest and, yes, I know that if Sam weren’t here, he would not point—he wouldn’t acknowledge me at all—but Sam _is_ here and he _did_ point. Right at me.

By the time my popcorn is done, the game is almost over. Dean has the ball and he’s running with it but not fast enough. I only notice because I’m watching him so closely—otherwise, I would have missed it. He misses a step on his left leg—just a tiny hop—and he sends the ball off in a miscalculated throw to Lucas.

I don’t take my eyes off Dean as I watch him buckle—

 _Boom_.

I shoot to my feet, standing on my tippy toes as I watch him fall, the other guy going down with him. It’s almost in slow motion—Dean’s head hits the ground, bouncing once…twice. His arms extend on both sides as he faces the dark sky—the other guy gets up and walks away.

No one moves—I guess the whistle blew at some point. Dean just lays there and I watch as a few teammates run to check on him. My heart pounds in my throat, cutting off my breathing as I stretch to watch.

All the breath in my lungs whooshes out when he sits up, helped by his teammates, before standing. He limps off the field, refusing their help, as the crowd cheers.

I still worry though—all through the last minutes of the game, I worry. He doesn’t come back out until the last whistle blows and everyone erupts in shouts.

My heart sinks as I watch Lisa throw herself at Dean. He looks less than pleased, but he doesn’t push her off. I look away, but not before Dean’s eyes meet mine across the space.

I follow Sam through the crowd of people leaving the stands, getting just outside the masses before he turns to me.

“I—uh…I’ve gotta meet someone, so…I’ll see you around.” Then he’s gone and just like that, I’m alone with this sick feeling in my gut and all the eyes in the world on me. I sneak beneath the bleachers, not going too far in, but just far enough to escape the hoards of bodies jostling for space.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out. “Hello?” I answer, trying to hide the fact that I’m upset but not completely managing.

Dean doesn’t ask—he knows what’s wrong. “I want to see you.” His voice is low, spoken just out of earshot of the rest of the team if the commotion in the background is anything to go by. “I’m coming over later.”

“My mom’s home.” No, she’s not. I hate lying to him but God…I hate seeing him with Lisa more.

“Then come to mine.” I’m so shocked by the offer that I don’t decline, mumbling a small _okay_ under my breath. “Great! I’m going for dinner with Bobby and Ellen first, can you get there?” He sounds so excited that I can’t possibly say no. I can take the bus.

“Yeah,” I breathe, shifting my feet and searching the crowd. I spot Bobby across the way—he’s talking to another man.

“Go there now and wait for me in my room—you’ll know it when you see it—I won’t be long. There’s a key in the plant beside the door.” He hangs up before I can reply but the sinking feeling has dulled, overshadowed by a new thrill. I plunge into the crowd, feeling invisible as I move through them.

 

I shift anxiously on the bed as the clock on the wall ticks away the minutes. I’ve been here an hour already and the thought that Dean forgot started to run through my mind half an hour ago.

 _Should I take off my clothes? No, that’s stupid_. I sigh, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater. _Maybe I should just go._

I stand to do just that when I hear heavy footsteps on the stairs. My heart leaps in my chest and I’m frozen to the spot as the doorknob turns and a dark figure enters. I hold my breath.

Dean flips on the lights, a beautiful smile lighting up his face and stealing my breath. I sit back down, bouncing once as I watch him move, taking in the way he limps as he approaches, his eyes darkening with lust as they run over every inch of me.

“Are you okay?” I ask, focussing my gaze on his hip.

“Don’t worry about me, angel mine.” I suck in a sharp breath, tingling from head to toe. “I’ll be just fine.” With those words, his lips collide with mine and I fall back on the bed, moving up until my head hits the pillow and Dean blankets me with his body.

I relish the feeling of his hands on me—every inch it seems—as I fist his shirt in my hands, holding on as tightly as I can. He kisses me desperately, winding his fingers through my hair as I wrap my legs around his hips. I sink into the feeling, letting myself give in to the hailstorm of emotions he makes me feel—just for tonight. Just for now.

 

_SAM_

As soon as we walk through the door, I can hear them. The sound of mattress springs and the bed hitting the wall fills the space and makes it hard to hold eye contact with anyone. I don’t know who’s up there with him and, honestly, I don’t want to know.

Jo turns up the TV and Bobby grabs a drink as Ellen glances at the ceiling periodically.

“Someone needs to have a talk with that boy about bringing girls home.” She shakes her head and sighs. “It’s just disrespectful.” 

Bobby says something but I don’t hear. Ruby’s supplier has some fresh stuff and wants to know if I want any. _I’m in_ , I answer back. I’ll have to find some spare cash…maybe Dean has some stashed away.

“Wonder who he’s got up there this time,” I hear Jo say, looking up at the ceiling. She doesn’t have to wonder for long.

“Cas!” My head snaps up. _No fucking way_.

“Cassie Robinson, I guess,” Jo says with a chuckle. _No…fucking…way_. I don’t say anything to her—I’m not sure for myself—because there’s no _fucking_ way. It’s not Cas. It can’t be—Dean likes _girls_. He’s not gay!

 

I sneak up the stairs hours after everyone has gone to bed, stopping outside Dean’s room. It’s quiet inside—not even the sound of snoring. I know I shouldn’t—and I really don’t want to—but I need to know, so I turn the doorknob, my heart pounding as the hinges squeal, and peak around the door. It’s dark and nothing moves. I look to the bed and my heart leaps into my throat when I count two bodies. One is Dean—I know this for sure—but the other…It’s smaller. I take a step inside to get a better look and see a head of dark hair tucked up against Dean’s chest.

Dean’s arms wrap protectively around the smaller body, making it hard to tell exactly who it is. They shift and I freeze, terrified for a moment that I’ve been caught, before realizing that I can now see who it is.

The answer stops me in my tracks. I didn’t want to believe it…not Dean. This isn’t Dean. He _hates_ Castiel. How could he…?

But they’re right there. The proof is right in front of me. Dean’s leg wraps around Castiel’s hip, keeping him close as an arm holds him in, one hand in his hair and the other resting on his back. Dean’s lips rest at his hairline, breathing him in.

There’s no way this happened by accident—to think it is stupid—but Dean and Castiel…like this? It’s almost as insane to think.

I back out of the room, suddenly feeling like I’m intruding on something far more intimate than sex. Just by the way Dean holds him, I can tell— _anyone_ would be able to tell—Dean loves Castiel, even if he doesn’t know it himself.

I close the door behind me, forgetting all about the money as I go to my room, thinking instead, of how little I actually know my brother.

 

**_December 21, 2018_ **

_CASTIEL_

“Dean?” I sit up, looking to my right and once again find myself alone. Luna is curled up on Dean’s pillow but he’s not here and my heart sinks at yet another morning waking up alone. I go in search of him, expecting to find him cooking breakfast like the other mornings—a zombie walking around the kitchen and burning the bacon—but the kitchen is empty. Nothing moves as my heart leaps in my chest—worry crawling up my throat more today than any of the days before.

I check and his car is still here…

“Dean?” I call again—he must be here somewhere. That’s when I notice the patio door leading to the backyard. It’s only open about an inch, not enough to really affect the temperature inside, but from where I’m standing, a cool breeze tickles my bare feet and draws me forward with cautious steps.

There he is, sitting on the top step with his head resting on the railing. I slide the door open and approach him on light feet, the world weighing me down even as I move silently across the cold wood.

“Dean?” I whisper but he doesn’t react so I sit next to him, feeling his deep, steady breaths against my arm. His eyes are closed and his mouth hangs open, in a deep sleep caused by something more than exhaustion. There’s an empty flask on the step by his feet. I pick it up, smelling whiskey when I bring it to my nose. God, I hate that smell.

His cheek is cool beneath my fingertips—cold and scratchy from the two-day scruff he has going on. I run my fingers along his jaw before pulling him into my side, feeling a twisting in my stomach when I smell the booze on his breath. He startles, waking with a jolt and straightening up before wincing at the bright sun shining down on us. His head drops back into my neck as he groans.

“What time is it?” I stroke the hair at the nape of his neck and kiss the top of his head. How long has he been out here? Not all night, surely, but how would I know?

“A little after nine.” Crap. I have an appointment in an hour. “Come on, let's get you up and into bed; you’re freezing.” He doesn’t comment, wrapping his arms around me instead and letting me pull him to his feet. Neither of us reaches for the empty flask, choosing to ignore its intruding presence for now.

I lead him to the bedroom and help him to bed, pulling the covers over his now shivering body and tucking him in. He looks absolutely wretched—his skin is pasty and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks like he’s been through the wringer as he shields his eyes from the light and moans.

“Are we going to talk about this?” I whisper, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting a hand on his thigh.

“Not right now.” There’s something in his tone—sharp and dismissive—that hits a nerve. By _not right now_ he means _not ever_. For a moment, I’m too stunned to respond, but all my fears and pent-up anger starts to bubble up and I just can’t hold it back any longer.

“When?” I snap, taking my hand back and crossing my arms over my chest as I stand. He groans but I know it’s more from annoyance than pain.

“I don’t know, Cas! Not now.” He rolls over, hiding his face as anger boil over inside me.

“Now seems to be as good a time as any. Why are you drinking?” He huffs but I couldn’t care less. He knows how much I hate it when he drinks whiskey—this Dean _knows_ that.

“Because I’m a grown ass man and I can do what I want,” he spits, turning to glare at me as I fume on the spot.

“Seriously? It has nothing to do with your midnight disappearances?” I grind my molars when he glares at me.

“None of your business.” The look on his face cuts deep, tearing at my fragile heart. His eyes are like daggers punching through me and I involuntarily take a step back.

“Just go talk to somebody,” I whisper, feeling more desperate than I ever have. “Get some help.”

“And if I don’t?” He challenges, but I don’t have the energy to fight so I tell him exactly what will happen. I hate it, but I can’t go down that road again.

“I won’t do it again, Dean. The whiskey…all the drinking and fighting—I can’t do it again. It goes or I go.” I don’t give him a chance to respond before I continue. “And the nightmares…you need to talk to a professional because they’re tearing you apart.” I wrap my arms around my middle, holding myself together as I watch something flash in his eyes—something that looks a lot like panic—but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by petty defiance and cold anger.

“Get out,” he snaps and I stand there for a moment with my mouth hanging open before finally nodding. My throat constricts and I pivot on my heel, leaving the room before he can see my tears. “Shit…Cas!” I keep walking, too upset and humiliated to hear him out. Besides, I have an appointment to get to.

 

_DEAN_

“This is my voicemail…make your…voice…a mail.” _Beep_. The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding stutters out of me as my head falls into my hand. My face is wet but I can’t remember crying—that must’ve happened while I was sleeping. A sickening twist in my stomach has me sucking in air as I lay back on the bed. I look at the clock and sigh.

“It’s 3:23 am. The twenty-third…” I clear my throat as Luna breaths softly in my ear, asleep on Cas’s pillow. _Cas’s_ pillow _._ “I saw you drown again, Cas,” I whisper into the phone. He probably won’t be able to hear it but I just need to get it out there. “That’s mostly what the nightmares are about—you drowning.” I dig my knuckles into my chest, right above my heart, as the ache grows. “You walk right in and just…don't come back. It’s like you want to leave me.”

His words run through my head on a loop. _It goes or I go_. I was too mad and too hungover to realize the gravity his words carried—how much he meant what he said—but I do now. God, do I ever.

His absence sits like a weight on my chest, holding me down and making it hard to breathe. “Come back, Cas. Please, I need you here.” _Beep_. I hit the end button and just stare at the screen, knowing I shouldn’t call but dialing the number anyway as my heart lodges itself in my throat.

“Dean?”

“Heya, Sammy, how’s it going?” I force a smile onto my face, hoping it bleeds into my voice. I know it won’t work but it’s worth a shot.

“It was going great until my phone rang,” he grunts, his voice rough from sleep. I run my fingers through my hair as I stare up at the ceiling, trying to pretend they’re not my fingers and that there isn’t a hole in my chest.

“Yeah yeah, don’t be such a baby.” My voice breaks and I try to cover it with a cough but Sam catches it. He always catches it.

“What is it?” The humor is gone from his voice in an instant, replaced with brotherly concern.

“I messed up, Sammy,” I whisper, my voice breaking again as the hole in my chest aches, reminding me it’s there and won’t be ignored. “I shut him out—started drinking.” Sam’s deep inhale is the only reaction I get. “Ever since I got out of the hospital, I’ve been having these nightmares, see, and I know they’re memories—mostly anyway. I didn’t tell Cas but he knew.”

“Where is he?” I hear shuffling and the creak of his old bed at Bobby’s house as he stands.

“I don’t know,” I breathe, running a hand down my cheek and feeling the tears I didn’t know were falling. I sniffle. “He asked about them and I was so angry…I was hungover and hating myself and I snapped at him. He left after that.” I hear the fridge open on Sam’s end and decide to get up myself. I won’t be getting any more sleep tonight—not after seeing Cas drown over and over again in every possible way.

The hardwood floor is cold beneath my bare feet and the shadows creep up the walls, haunting in their presence. I almost don’t want to disturb the silence—the stillness—but it leaves an ache in my chest that needs to be disturbed so I continue on, flipping on the kitchen light and grabbing a glass from the cupboard. I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear as I pour a tall glass of eggnog and sit at the island, resting my elbows on the marble surface as I take a sip. The creamy liquid coats my tongue but it just doesn’t taste as good.

I try again but it’s bland and boring so I put the glass in the fridge for a later time and flip the lights back off, deciding the kitchen feels lonelier when I can see that no one else is here.

“Did you try calling him?”

I snort. “Only about a hundred times,” I snap, feeling the hole in my chest widen a little bit more at the reminder that he doesn’t want to talk to me. It’s my fault though; I saw this coming but I was too absorbed in my own issues to recognize Cas’s breaking point. When I smile, he smiles. When I hurt, he hurts. It’s easy to forget when my world starts to crumble around me—I couldn’t see that Cas was crumbling with me. “I don’t know what to do, Sammy.” A broken sound leaves my lips but I don’t care. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What did he ask of you?” It was so simple—so incredibly simple. The only thing I had to do was put him first.

“To stop.” I scratch a nail on the countertop in an attempt to focus on anything other than my closing throat and welling eyes. “To get help.”

“So do it.” He makes it all sound so simple—like there isn’t a reason for the whiskey and everything can be fixed with a shrink. It’s not like that—he should know since he went through much worse in rehab—but I don’t say that. This isn’t his problem; it’s mine.

 

_CASTIEL_

Fingers graze my hipbone, dipping beneath the waistband of my sweatpants and wandering lower. I don’t register for a minute—still half asleep—that it couldn’t possibly be Dean and I push my hips back, grinding my ass against the hard bulge nestled against me. I moan, shifting with my eyes closed as the fingers travel lower.

“You like that, Castiel?” I all but fly across the room when the British accent hits my ears, letting me know for certain that I’m _not_ with Dean. My heart pounds in my chest as my stomach twists. I’m going to be sick. My head screams relentlessly and I stumble, leaning against the wall for support as I take in the room.

It’s dark, the sun just barely peeking around the curtains to reveal a bed—the sheets are a mess and so is Balthazar. That infuriating smirk on his lips as he lays on his side, head propped up on his hand, wearing nothing but a pair of yellow panties.

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

An eyebrow raises as he starts running his hand over his body. I don’t react—not even a prick of interest. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

My heart drops and I try to think back but everything is fuzzy. I remember going to the bar and I remember the fourth drink, but after that…nothing. There’s no way—I wouldn’t do that. No, I definitely wouldn’t do that to Dean.

But these aren’t my sweatpants and I’m almost positive there’s no underwear on under them. _I’m going to be sick._

I run into the bathroom and only just make it over the toilet before everything comes back up, burning my throat for the second time. _I didn’t. I couldn’t. There’s no way._

Pulling down my sweats, I see that I’m not, in fact, wearing any underwear. My gut twists but I sigh in relief when I check myself. _I wasn’t bottoming anyway._

I sit on the floor, sweating and shaking as I pull my phone out of the pocket. Another missed call from Dean—this one from well after midnight, and, before I know what I’m doing, I hit play—his pain-filled voice filling my ears.

“It’s 3:23 am. The twenty-third…” He clears his throat before continuing. “I saw you drown again, Cas.” It’s barely a whisper but I hear him. Tears slip down my cheeks and I close my eyes. “That’s mostly what the nightmares are about—you drowning.” An ache starts in my chest, right over my heart, growing wider and wider with every word. “You walk right in and just…don't come back. It’s like you want to leave me.” I drop my head back against the wall, feeling the pounding in my head intensify as guilt ravages me. “Come back, Cas. Please, I need you here.”

I end the playback and dial another number. The phone rings twice before Dr. Barnes picks up.

 

I haven’t seen Dean in three days. It’s Christmas Eve—the last day Dr. Barnes is willing to meet with me before her holidays. I sit in her office, still slightly damp from the rain but drying off quickly in her warm office. My phone rings again in my pocket but I ignore it, knowing it’s Dean but still not ready to talk to him.

I’ve slept in Balthazar’s spare bedroom ever since that night with the door locked—I’m still not ready to deal with the aftermath of what happened in my shop—but I’m really not worried. A few hours after I woke up, the memories started coming back—fuzzy at first, then more clear. I remember he tried to get me to fuck him, even going so far as to strip me himself, but I said no and that’s as far as it went. Even if he hadn’t told me himself, I would’ve known.

If I’m being honest, I miss Dean so bad I ache from it. And Luna too. I just want to go back to them, but I can’t—I’ve given in too much and too often to do it now. Dean needs help and he’s never going to get it if I concede on everything.

Yeah, maybe I was being unfair by ambushing him like that but having someone that’s only half there is torture. I did it once and I refuse to do it again. I don’t know the extent of his nightmares—he won’t talk about them—but I know they must be worse than the snippets from his voicemails, so if he would just get some concealing…

“Castiel?” I jump, meeting Pam’s eyes as she watches me with quiet deliberation. “Did you hear me?” I shake my head but she only smiles. “How are things?”

I know what she means by that and I sigh, letting my head fall back on the couch as I stare at the ceiling. “Dean’s memories are coming back,” I whisper, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. She doesn’t interrupt—letting me speak at my own pace. “It’s what I wanted but…” I shake my head, dropping my face into my hands and rubbing my eyes. “He’s getting these…nightmares.”

“Go on,” she prompts when I stop talking.

“He…um…he won’t talk about them and he’s started drinking. I hate it when he drinks so I gave him an ultimatum.” Her face never changes but I can tell she’s surprised. “I know, I probably should have given him time, but I can’t do that again. It nearly killed me the first time.”

“What was the ultimatum?”

“Me or the whiskey,” I whisper on a shrug. “Get help or I’ll leave.” I feel so helpless sitting there, having failed to help him get over his guilt. I wanted him to remember all the pain he put me through—to feel it in a way that makes him shrivel inside—I wanted that at first, but now my own memories are resurfacing and it’s not all painful anymore. It's not just sex and booze anymore.

There was love there. I can see that now, looking back on our memories. I can see it in his eyes and in the way he smiled at me. How did I forget that? How could I ever forget all he did for me? I wanted him to remember but I never wanted this.

I play with the sleeves of my shirt, feeling the raised skin of my scar. These scars…they warped my memories; turned them dark and sinister. They buried anything that couldn’t be manipulated and left only the pain he caused. They made me forget.

But it’s all coming back now and I don’t need a doctor with some fancy degree to explain why. The Dean I knew and loved back then has always been there. Sure, he had his issues, but he was still there in all the little things.

And now, with all the baggage stripped away, the reality of everything he did to me is destroying him. The realization crushes me, squeezing the breath from my lungs as Pam watches on. _I’m hurting him_ , and I know I shouldn’t be this ashamed because _he_ did this to _me_ , but I love him—God, do I love him—and I can’t take his pain.

I open my mouth to speak—to tell her I have to go—but there’s suddenly pounding on the door and both of us turn towards the commotion but she stands, apologizing, and opens the door. I can’t see who’s on the other side but my heart pounds in a way it only ever does for one person.

 

_DEAN_

Pam scowls at me when the door swings open. “What are you doing here? I’m with a patient.” She holds the door in such a way that I can’t see who it is. That’s okay; I don’t really care.

My hands shake at my sides and I know I look terrible—lack of sleep will do that to a person—but I need help. No—I need _Cas_ , and she’s the only person that can help me get him back. Every night without him beside me is torture—pure and simple. I need him and I know it’s not healthy or practical but I want him with me every minute of every day.

“I need help,” I whisper, and suddenly the dam bursts and tears pour down my cheeks in little rivers. “I’m remembering it all and there’s so much pain—so much hurt and loss and _pain_. I don’t know what’s real and what’s my imagination. Am I conjuring it up because I feel guilty or did it really happen? I don’t know and I think I might be going crazy? Just a little? Maybe?”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down! Just take a breath and wait for me to finish, okay?” But I’m shaking my head as my knees start to buckle. _I’m so tired_.

“Cas won’t answer my phone calls and I think this is really it, you know? I think he’s gone and never coming back. I really messed up this time, didn’t I? Like I always do; I mess up and push people away because I don’t deserve to be happy. Not after everything I did to Cas. No, I definitely don’t deserve to be happy.” I shake my head as I mumble under my breath. I’m not even really talking to her anymore—just kind of talking because she’s the only one who can’t judge me. It feels good to finally get it out, but at the same time, it hurts. Then I think maybe I’m not really awake because there he is! There’s my Cas right behind Pam and he looks so nice.

“Dean?” And there’s his voice! I think I might be crying but I’m not sure. My face is wet, so probably, and now I’m in his arms but I don’t remember getting there and he smells so good… Just like I remember but a little different. I settle my cheek on his shoulder and wrap my arms around his neck and finally— _finally_ —I close my eyes.

 

_CASTIEL_

“Is he asleep?” Pam’s shock matches mine as Dean’s breathing evens out against my neck and I brace myself to support his weight.

“Um…yes?” I look back at her and she just shakes her head before turning to her desk and grabbing her prescription pad. She scribbles something down and hands the paper to me.

“For him. They're some pretty heavy-duty sleeping pills. They should keep the nightmares at bay but don’t let him drive. He shouldn’t even have driven here…” She shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest while leaning back against her desk. “Can you get him home okay? Or would you rather I called his brother?”

“We’ll be fine,” I mumble, shoving the paper in my pocket and smiling in thanks.

“I want to see you both in here after the holiday.” I nod, readjusting my hold on Dean. “Hey, I mean it.” She gives me a stern look before holding the door open for me.

“I know.”

Getting Dean down to the car is the hardest part, but once I’ve got him in the passenger’s seat with his seatbelt buckled and the door closed, it’s pretty much smooth sailing. I pick up his prescription before deciding I’m not ready to take him home yet. So I drive, going everywhere and nowhere as Dean sleeps. I know he won’t be asleep for long—another nightmare will weasel its way into his unconscious mind and force him from sleep—but I’ll let him get all the rest he can.

God…seeing him like this…I hate it. He’s so much worse than he was three days ago. His eyes are bloodshot with dark circles underneath that look like bruises. He’s so pale—almost sickly—and his hair is wild and greasy from lack of care.

Then there’s the way he moves. Sluggish and shaky and with so much pain. We will definitely be paying a visit to Dr. Barnes after the holiday.

Something nags at the back of my mind, refusing to be ignored. Why was he there? Surely he doesn’t know I see her—I’ve always been so careful about not letting him see how I heal the wounds he’s caused—so does that mean he decided to get help? Or has he been seeing her for longer than I know?

My mind goes back to one of my first meetings with Pam and how she reacted to my mention of Dean. Does she counsel him, too? If she does, why hasn’t he ever said anything? _Maybe for the same reason you never did?_

I sigh, exhausted from the mental strain of the day, and decide to head back to Dean’s. I pull into the driveway and turn off the car but I don’t get out, watching Dean instead as he sleeps. He looks so peaceful like this—not at all shrouded with guilt. His dark hair hangs over his eyes and he needs to shave but he’s never looked more beautiful to me. His freckles stand out against his pale skin and I’ve never felt the urge to count them so strongly before.

I take his hand in mine as he starts to wake, moaning as the nightmare takes over. His face contorts and I try to snap him out of it by whispering softly in his ear. “You’re okay, Dean. It’s okay.” But he doesn’t respond until his eyes are flying open on a gasp and wildly searching his surroundings.

When he sees me sitting next to him, he frowns. “How’d I get here? I was…” He thinks hard on it for a moment. “I went to see Pam.” He looks to me for an answer.

“You fell asleep on me; we’re home now,” I say, gesturing uselessly at the house in front of us. He just nods.

“How long was I out?”

“A couple hours. Your car needs gas, by the way.” I force a small smile and one corner of his mouth turns up but he doesn't say anything more as he continues to hold my hand a little too tightly and stare out the windshield at the house. Looking at it but not really seeing anything.

Suddenly, he turns to me, gripping my fingers so hard the bones grind together. I hold back a wince and squeeze his fingers in return to relieve some of the pressure.

“Can you swim?” My head shoots back on my neck in shock from the out-of-the-blue question. I narrow my eyes and tilt my head in confusion, answering slowly.

“No…why?” He ignores my question, following with one of his own.

“Did I…did I know?” The fear and dread in his eyes breaks my heart and makes me realize why he’s asking—the nightmares…the memories. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep, steadying breath.

“Yes…and no,” I say, opening my eyes to confused and irritated green ones. He opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off. “Not when you threw me into the pool, but it became pretty obvious when I didn’t come back up.” I shrug, looking away when his face falls. He turns back to face the house as his jaw works harder.

“Into a pool? Whose pool?” He doesn’t look at me as he speaks and I can see the shame even from his profile.

“Mine.”

“Yours? But I thought we weren’t—”

“My mom invited everyone she thought were my friends and my cousins for my birthday. The football team showed up but no one else did.” I shrug again and pick at my sweater.

“Shit, Cas…” He swipes at his cheek with shaky fingers. “Shit!”

“It’s okay—”

“I tried to _drown you!_ It’s _not_ okay!” I flinch when his voice fills the car, shaking with barely controlled anger. Anger at himself, I know, but still.

“You didn’t know, Dean. You _saved_ me. Do you remember that? You pulled me out and got me breathing again when my cousins would’ve left me to die. It’s _okay_ ,” I insist as he shakes his head, wiping away more tears as they fall.

“God, I don’t deserve you.” A bitter laugh leaves him as he sits back, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

I stare at him for a long time as anger bubbles up in my chest. I get out of the car and walk around to his side, pulling the door open and glaring at his startled face.

“Get out,” I snap.

“What are you—”

“Get out of the car!” He does, watching me warily as he unbuckles his seatbelt and stands, facing me with a bewildered expression on his tear-stained cheeks. “You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself, okay? It’s over—it happened, but it’s over.”

“But, what I did—”

“Yeah, it was horrible but i _t’s over_ , and _I_ deserve you. You make me happy and I deserve that, so stop saying we shouldn’t be together because we should and we are and I deserve this!” My chest heaves and my heart races with every labored breath by the end of my rant, butDean just watches me with something soft in his eyes. There’s conflict there, too, and I watch as he seems to war with himself over something. Then it settles as if a decision has been made.

Taking a deep breath, he speaks, “I love you, Cas.”


	20. Angel Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Okay, so I'm back at uni and I really don't have a lot of time to be doing anything other than my school work so updates will probably be coming less frequently (I say this now and, knowing myself, you'll have another update in, like, two days lol). Your comments make me want to write more so if you want to read another chapter...(shameless blackmail for feedback. I'm not even a little ashamed.)
> 
> Honestly, though, let me know what's working, what's not, any thoughts or feelings, or literally if you just want to say hi. University is lonely. I like talking to people.
> 
> Okay! I hope you love it!

**_November 23, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

His eyes bore into me all the way down the hall. I can feel them, like daggers shooting through me, searching for some truth or another. I have no idea what that truth might be and in all honesty, if he’s not going to ask, I’m not going to share. Sammy looks away for the briefest moment when Ruby comes up beside him before he turns his eyes back on me. I watch him watch me behind my sunglasses as Uriel continues talking about whatever he talks about. I stopped listening the moment I noticed Sam staring.

I can’t even begin to think of what I could’ve done wrong—there are too many possibilities and not enough time. I’ll have to confront him about it later.

But right now, Cas is walking towards us and I can’t help the grin tugging at my lips as I watch him. He’s glancing at me shyly, his eyes flicking between me and the floor. A sweet warmth floods my heart as I watch him pass and see his own lips twitch with a small smile.

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Uri hits my elbow and I glare at him through my glasses. He doesn’t notice.

“Not really.” Not at all. I sling my bag over my shoulder and close my locker before turning away. I head for my car, not stopping to talk to anyone and pretending I don’t hear them call out to me—I’m too excited to get out of here. It’s Tuesday.

 

Cas isn’t home yet but I knew he wouldn’t be. He’s got some flower thing to deal with before he can tutor me. I don’t mind, though, even if it means I have to wait a bit to see him.

I walk through his unlocked front door and head for the kitchen. No one’s home but I knew they wouldn’t be; no one’s ever here after school—Cas is lucky that way. I grab myself a drink and a cookie from the jar on the counter—chocolate chip—and take the stairs two at a time on my way to Cas’s room. I’ll just hang out here until he gets home.

Taking a bite of the cookie as I look around the room, I flip on the lights and notice his laptop on the desk. Now, in any other circumstance I wouldn’t even take note of it but this time, it’s open and there’s a word document up on the screen. Huh, he must have turned off the sleep function.

I take a seat in the chair, wheeling it around to face the screen before scrolling to the top of the page.

I don’t read—I don’t think I’ve ever _actually_ finished a book in my life—but this…I’m hooked from the first word, drawn in by the characters and plot. Maybe it’s the fact that this is _Cas’s_ story but I don’t think so. It’s actually incredible, not that my standards are anything to go by, but…I mean…I could read this from start to finish without even realizing I’m doing it. I mean, I know Cas likes to write, but this is…it’s _amazing_. The way he takes the characters through their struggles and all the ups and downs…I feel it and it’s so _powerful_ … I almost don’t know what to do with myself when he walks through the door.

 

_CASTIEL_

_Oh no…no, no, no_. My heart drops to the floor as I lunge at my desk, slamming my laptop shut as humiliation seeps through me. I feel physically ill as I pick up my laptop and hug it to my chest, feeling my whole body flame as Dean stares at me. I stare at the floor, bracing myself for the mortifying laughter that I’m positive is coming.

I wait…and wait…and wait.

“Cas…” Here it comes. I cringe, turning away and heading for my bed.

“It’s nothing.” I sit down facing my closet, not daring to look over by my desk in case Dean insists on meeting my gaze. I hear more than see him stand and walk over to the bed. He takes the laptop from my unwilling grip and sets it aside. “It’s not finished; it’s nothing.” My chin is lifted and my eyes meet Dean’s. They’re not teasing like I thought they would be. They’re something closer to everything I never could have hoped for. Soft…kind.

“I don’t read, Cas, but that,” he points at my laptop as he leans over me, one hand braced on the bed by my hip as he tilts my chin back further. “I could read that from start to finish over and over again.” He kisses me—just a quick peck on the lips—before pulling away and grabbing his bag, digging through it for his notebook as a small grin starts tugging at my lips.

“You really think so?” I watch his every move, every expression, for any sign of a lie. He looks over his shoulder at me while holding up his copy of To Kill A Mockingbird.

“Better than this crap.” I laugh—I can’t help it.

“That’s an internationally acclaimed novel, Dean,” I say, like that means anything to him. He just rolls his eyes.

“I meant what I said.” He shrugs as he stands, notebook in one hand and book in the other before heading for the door. I get up and move to my desk, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. “You should publish that; I’m sure I’m not the only one who’d read it.” Obviously, I’ve thought of publishing books before—how else does a writer become an author?—but this one? No. Never. This one is too personal—too intimate.

“You’re just saying that,” I mumble, distracted, as I scribble on a sticky note to make sure the pen has ink.

“If I didn’t like it I wouldn’t tell you I did. Who do you take me for?” I grin without looking at him as he leaves the room. Butterflies fill my stomach as a bubbly feeling starts up in my heart—warm and light as air and I start to think maybe…maybe I could do it.

I write five words on the sticky note, stare at them for a moment, decide they’re the most real thing I’ve ever written, and crush the tiny, blue paper in my fist. I toss it in the drawer, unable to throw it away even as the words run on repeat in my mind.

_I love you, Dean Winchester._

 

**_December 24, 2018_ **

I don’t have time to react before Dean’s mouth is on mine, pressing desperately as he holds me close, his hands on either side of my face as he kisses me deeply, passionately, and with all the love I’ve been waiting my whole life for.

He spins us so I’m pressed to the side of the car. I run my hands up his sides and pull him as close as I can, not wanting any space between us. Heat pools in my stomach and I moan, thrusting my tongue into his hot mouth as he does the same. God, I missed this—this heat and connection and feeling of just…being _home_. At peace. I smile against his lips, trying to kiss him still but unable to when joy bubbles up my throat and bursts out as laughter.

Dean pulls away, looking at me incredulously as I laugh. “Are you laughing at me?” His eyebrows knit together as a frown tugs at the corners of his lips, so I run my fingers down his cheek and smile.

“I’m _happy_ , Dean, and…God, I _love_ you.” Dean kisses me again and it’s different this time—filled with heat and desire. His hands move around to my back, slipping into my back pockets and dragging me closer as he grinds his hips against me. His mouth leaves mine, trailing wet kiss across my jaw to my ear before he takes my earlobe into his mouth and sucks. He bites down and I moan, closing my eyes and tilting my head to give him better access as he moves down my throat, biting and sucking his way to my collarbone as heat pools low in my stomach. I grind my hips harder into him, running my hands up the back of his shirt and raking my nails across his skin, lost in the moment as everything falls into place.

I yelp from the sudden, sharp pain in my neck as Dean bites down on the sensitive flesh, sucking the skin hard enough to leave a bruise. My hands find his hair, giving it a sharp tug when he nips at the skin below my ear.

A car horn honks from the road and I jump, glaring at the guy who’s wolf-whistling at us and give him the finger. He laughs and drives away as I lean against the car more heavily, panting for breath as Dean’s stare burns into me, his breaths coming just as fast.

“We should get inside,” I say, straitening up and following Dean up the walkway. He unlocks the door and I follow him in.

As soon as the door closes, Dean’s on me. I stumble back, my hands flying to his jacket and gripping it in tight fists as I pull him closer, his tongue matching the thrust of his hips.

He peels off my jacket and I do the same for him with jerking movements, tossing it to the floor. Dean pulls me down the hall to his bedroom, pressing me to the door and tugging the sweater over my head. I kiss him back with as much fervor and intensity as he kisses me, needing to feel his skin on mine. Suddenly, I’m falling—Not far and not for long—before landing with a soft bounce in the middle of the bed, Dean following after me, his hair even messier now than it was earlier.

The sweetest ache fills my heart when he smiles down at me—so tired yet so lovely. He dips his head to kiss me again and I accept it, letting him take what he needs as he gives me everything. I know he’s tired—exhausted. Beyond exhausted. He needs sleep but he kisses me so desperately I can’t possibly refuse. I don’t _want_ to refuse.

His lips melt against mine as I push my fingers through his greasy hair. He needs to shower; he smells like coffee and sweat. Working up the resolve to tell him this is harder than I thought but he stops kissing me before I can as his head drops to my neck, his body going limp on top of me as something wet drips on my collar bone and he starts to laugh. I can’t possibly begin to understand what’s happening as his body shakes with it. He grips my shoulders and holds on as the laughter dies, turning into sounds that can only be described as hysterical before they die out altogether.

“Dean?” A choked sob escapes him and he sniffles. “What? What’s wrong?” I cup his cheeks, pulling him out of my neck and making him meet my gaze. His eyes are wide—bloodshot with dark smudges underneath. They are somehow worse than earlier and my chest aches at the sight.

“I-I’m sorry…” he whimpers, swiping at his eyes. “I just want to have sex with you but—but I’m so _tired_ , Cas.” His bottom lip quivers and I can’t help but smile sadly. “But I can’t sleep because every time I do, I see you _die._ Over and over and over—” The crack in his voice brings tears to my eyes as a lump forms in my throat and I graze my fingers over the stubble on his cheek, trying to bring both him and myself some comfort. _How could I ever forget loving you?_

“Dr. Barnes wrote a prescription—it’s in the car.”

He sniffles, his eyes widening hopefully—the bright green only enhanced by the veins so close to the surface. Red and green. “Really?”

I nod with a small smile, rolling him to the side as I stand. He doesn’t protest the movement but I can see from the frown tugging at his lips that he’s not altogether happy about me leaving. “Why don’t you have a quick shower while I get them?” He nods in acceptance, standing on wobbly legs before dragging his feet into the bathroom.

I briefly worry about him falling and hurting himself so I don’t waste any time getting his prescription. He’s just turning on the water when I get back and I stand in the doorway, watching him lean his head against the wall and close his eyes. He braces himself with his forearm as the stream pours down his back.

It’s hot as hell watching him stand like that and my jeans would be tightening just from the view if I didn’t know just how tormented he is. He’s beautiful, but also so vulnerable that doing anything other than taking care of him right now doesn’t even enter my mind.

I strip out of my clothes and step into the shower through the open door that Dean evidently forgot to close. He startles awake as I grab his shampoo, pouring a small amount into my palm and lathering it in his hair. I coax him back so he leans into my chest and massage the shampoo into his scalp. He sighs in contentment and my heart swells a little. Taking care of Dean is second nature—something I have never really been given the opportunity to do, but love doing all the same. The soft sighs that leave his lips tell me he’s enjoying it, but it’s the way he leans into me—getting as close as he can—that has my heart skipping in my chest.

 _I deserve this._ The smile that lights up my face only confirms the thought. I deserve this, and I whole-heartedly believe that, because I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy—not even before.

I tilt Dean’s head under the stream, making sure to get all the suds out before grabbing the bar of soap from the little shelf and rubbing it all over Dean. I won’t say I don’t do a thorough job of it, but I don’t take my time. Dean’s practically asleep against my chest and it’s only a matter of time before one—or both—of us slips.

He rinses off and I turn off the water. “I think you’re done,” I whisper in his ear as he jerks back to consciousness and gets out of the shower. I dry him off but don’t bother putting him into clothes before feeding him the sleeping pill with some water and pulling the blankets up to his chin after he settles on the pillow.

Crouching down next to him, I watch closely as his eyelids are dragged down by exhaustion and medication. I just watch him for a bit, stroking his stubbly cheek with my thumb and wondering about happy endings. What is a happy ending, anyway? I used to think I knew but now I’m not so sure. This moment most assuredly isn’t _happy_ —not with all that Dean’s going through—but Dean just told me he loves me and that, beyond anything else, is my idea of a happy ending.

I’m so lost in counting his freckles that I jump when his fingers stretch up in sleep and graze my wrist. My scar. Then he mumbles so low that I almost don’t hear him. I _almost_ miss the wonderful words spilling from his unconscious mind.

“Love you, angel mine.” It’s the closest I’ll ever get to pure elation, I think. Yeah…I don’t think anything could top this feeling.

My lips graze his in a gentle, feather-light kiss before I move away, leaving him to sleep in peace as words flow through me like they haven’t in years. I hurry to the kitchen and search through the drawers for a spare piece of paper and a pen, finally digging up an old notepad—the paper yellowing with age—from a forgotten box in the hall closet.

It takes me more time to get up on the stool at the island than it does to start writing. The words flow through the pen onto paper like I’ve cut myself open and I’m just bleeding out the words. Emotions, really, because that’s all I feel for Dean. Pure, unrestrained emotions.

It’s always been like that, I think. Even when I was my most closed off, I could never fully shut Dean out. He just has this way of knocking down every wall and getting through every obstacle on his way into my bleeding, broken heart. He has a way of healing it, too—of healing every part of me.

By the time the doorbell rings, it’s well past ten o’clock and I’ve been writing for hours. I haven’t eaten, I realize, as my stomach gives a growl of protest, but the notepad…words fill every page and three pens lay discarded on the marble surface, discarded after running out of ink.

It’s dark inside and out, the lights are off everywhere but the kitchen because it had still been light out when I started writing. I flip on the lights on my way to the door and don’t bother looking through the peephole before swinging it open, too tired to think about it or to care.

Gabe stands on the other side with an apologetic smile on his face. “I know I should’ve called but I thought you’d say no, or Dean would say no. I would if I could but my basement is flooded so…can she stay here?” I don’t think I’ve ever been this confused, honestly.

“What? Who’s _she?_ ” Gabe sighs and gestures to his side and when I still don’t get it, he looks behind him, and, seeing that he’s alone, he huffs in exasperation and turns back to his car.

“Come on! I don’t have all night!” Glancing past him, I see the window of his car roll down but it’s too dark to see who’s inside.

“I’m not coming; I don’t know who lives there.”

“It’s Castiel!”

“Castiel has an apartment, Gabriel.” Gabe glances over his shoulder at me with so much frustration that I could laugh. But I don’t, because I know that voice and the person it belongs to.

“This is his boyfriend's house. Stop being so damn stubborn and get in here.” Finally, after a few seconds of deliberation, the door opens and a woman I haven’t seen in seven years steps out. I can’t move even though I want to. I’m frozen in place, not knowing which way I’d prefer to go—inside or out. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize just how much I’ve missed her—how stupid I’ve been and how much I wish I could take back every hurtful thing I said to her.

She doesn’t meet my eyes until she’s standing in front of me. Then, as if she’s stealing herself, she takes a deep breath and slowly raises her eyes to meet mine. Icy blue in color, much like mine, stare back at me. I’ve only seen them this unsure one other time in my life. The last time we spoke in person wasn’t a good talk—actually it’s right up there in the worst days of my life.

But now, after nearly a decade, all the anger and betrayal that once burned so hot in my chest just melts away as a lump lodges itself in my throat. I try to swallow but I can’t as tears well in my eyes. _I love you._

“Mom?” I croak and the tears fall as I pull her into my arms. Now she’s crying too and Gabe just stands on the stoop, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly but I don’t care. I missed her and I only just realized how much.

“My sweet boy; I missed you.” I bury my face in her neck and breathe in the familiar comfort of her perfume. For the first time in years, it’s not tainted by the faint scent of alcohol.

“So…can she stay here?” Gabe shifts from foot to foot, impatiently waiting for an answer.

“I think Dean would be okay with it…” I look over my shoulder at nothing in particular before turning back to my mom whose eyes scan every inch of me.

“You look healthier. Happier.” Her smile is shy and hesitant.

“Ask him,” Gabe says, looking past me as well.

“He’s asleep.”

“Then wake him up, I don’t have all night to stand here, you know?” He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

I scowl at him. “I can’t.”

“Fine, I’ll wake him.” He tries to push past me but I block him, putting a hand on his chest and holding him back.

“He hasn’t slept more than a few hours a night in _weeks_ and he’s finally getting it so, _no_ , neither of us is waking him. Besides, even if I wanted to, I can’t because of the sleeping pills he’s on. She can stay here tonight but I’ll have to talk to him when he wakes up.” Gabe’s eyes stay locked on mine for a moment after but eventually, he pulls away with a nod.

“I’ll grab your bags,” he says to our mother before turning back to the car. Mom looks at me with those inquisitive eyes of hers but for once, I don’t crack, turning instead to lead her inside. She takes in every picture on the walls, stopping at one of Dean and Sam from some past Christmas. They each have an arm around the other's shoulder as they grin at the camera. The sweaters they’re wearing are some of the ugliest Ugly Christmas Sweaters I’ve ever seen. They stand in front of a tree full of homemade decorations with presents scattered underneath, and the lights haven’t been turned on on the tree but it’s still a great photo. Dean’s eyes are alight with happiness as he smiles with his brother.

“Which one is yours?” Warmth blossoms in my chest with her words. _Which one is yours?_ Mine. She smiles over her shoulder at me when I don’t immediately answer, so I point to Dean, my finger skimming over the glass covering his sweater. I wonder if he’ll bring this one out tomorrow or if he has another one hidden at the back of his closet. “He’s very handsome, I’ll give you that.”

“They’re both hot,” Gabe says from behind her. “Good genes, like us.” He winks at her and she rolls her eyes but the smile never drops from her face. “You’ll meet them both tomorrow. Where’s the room. Cassie?” His abrupt switch in subjects leaves me frozen for a moment before I turn on my heel and lead them both to the guest room across from Dean’s closed bedroom door.

I pause to let them enter, watching the closed door and listening for anything out of the ordinary. All I hear is the ticking of the clock.

“Oh, good lord, what is _that?_ ” I whip around at my mother's terrified shriek as she practically jumps out of her skin when Luna runs by. I laugh, scooping her up in my arms and holding her to my chest as she rubs her face under my jaw.

“This is Luna; our Cat.” She just stares, wide-eyed, at her, not moving away but not moving any closer, either.

“Black cats are bad luck, Castiel.”

A wave of annoyance crashes over me as I hold Luna closer to my chest and narrow my eyes. “She’s not bad luck.” I snap, turning to open Dean’s bedroom door and letting her down before closing the door again softly, but not before glancing at the bed and seeing him in the same position I left him, sound asleep.

“In any case, I would prefer that she didn’t come in this room.” I clench my jaw, remembering the reason we don’t speak often.

“She lives here—you don’t.” She’s not expecting that and it’s obvious by her lack of reply and the shock on her face. She expects me to just roll over and give in. Seven years ago, I would have, but this isn’t seven years ago.

She doesn’t respond, looking at the hardwood floor instead before turning silently and entering the room. I notice for the first time that Gabe’s not around so I wander to the living room and into the kitchen.

My heart sinks when he flips through the pages of the notepad and I snatch it away, holding it close to my chest and refusing to meet his probing gaze.

“You wrote that?” I shrug, scooping up the empty pens and tossing them in the trash—doing everything I can to avoid looking at him.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s _amazing_ ,” he corrects, bracing his arms against the island and keeping his eyes locked on me. I don’t see them but I feel them as I wander around the kitchen, looking for anything to do or clean or put away…anything so I don’t have to look at him as my whole body flames with embarrassment. No one— _no one_ —was supposed to read this. Not even Dean.

“You’re writing again?” My mom’s voice comes from the entrance to the kitchen. “That’s wonderful! Can I read it?” She looks so happy and hopeful as she moves to stand in front of me but I feel a little sick as I hold the pages closer to my chest.

“What? No…uh—no, it’s private.” I back out of the kitchen, shaking my head as I go. “I’m going to bed. Help yourself to the food, there’s a washroom in the hall and a linen closet with towels.” I look at Gabe. “You can go home now,” I say and with that, I hurry down the hall to Dean’s room.

I lean back against the closed door, hugging the notepad to my chest and close my eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths before tucking the notepad under Dean’s nightstand. I undress quickly, craving Dean’s warmth as a chill enters my bones. Lawrence never gets exceptionally cold but it’s enough to make me shiver.

I crawl in behind Dean and curl against his back. Normally, he’s the ‘big spoon’ as he calls it, but he’s far too out of it to wrap me in his arms and hold me against his chest. So instead, I snake an arm around his waist and settle my cheek between his shoulder blades. Falling asleep doesn’t take long with his steady breaths soothing me—lulling me to sleep.


	21. Merry Christmas, Angel Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! I feel like this has taken soooo long! I've been so busy with school that I feel like I've forgotten this altogether but I'll try to write more often. That being said, this chapter is longer than most of them so I hope that satisfies you! Anyway, I haven't written any further chapters so if there's anything that would like to see added, let me know in the contents and maybe (just maybe) I'll find a way to add it in if it doesn't interfere with the outline I have already.
> 
> Or you can comment just because; I love them all regardless. 
> 
> Okay, I hope you love this chapter!
> 
> *EDIT!*  
> *I have finished outlining the remainder of this story and have come to the conclusion that there will be nine (9) more chapters* (jk this is wrong lol)

**_November 23, 2010_ **

_SAM_

I gulp in fresh air when the bag is pulled off my head but the stench of the dark room makes me gag. Stale beer, sweat, and piss permeate the space and burn my eyes. Two men hold me, one on either side. Their grip is hard—fingernails dig into my shoulders but I don’t dare to struggle against them.

Azazel sits in his elaborate throne-like chair in front of me, his ankle resting on the opposite knee as he watches me with those calculating yellow eyes. He doesn’t speak for a while, just watching me as I try not to look away. My heart pounds so hard I’m almost positive they can hear it, but still, I keep my eyes locked defiantly on his.

“Sam Winchester…” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head slowly. I hold back the shiver that tries to run through me. “I had such high hopes for you.”

“I got you all the money, I’m out.” The bastards holding me dig their nails in deeper, cutting into flesh.

“That’s not how I see it.” He grins like the devil he is. “All those drugs—”

“I paid for those!” I snap and he just raises an eyebrow. I feel sick—beyond sick, as he shakes his head and takes a drag of the cigarette between his fingers.

“Dealers discount. That all goes away if you don’t deal anymore.” My heart drops to the floor as I think about the implications. I _knew_ it was too good to be true.

“You fucking prick,” I spit, before doubling over in pain when a fist lands in my gut.

“Now now, there’s no need for that. Seems to me we’ve got the money from your dear brother.” My eyes narrow as bile tries to rise in my throat. I swallow it back as dread settles in. “Alistair happened upon him by chance not too long ago. He had a little more than what was owed on him. Of course, we didn’t leave him unharmed.” The malicious smile that curves his lips sends fear straight into my bones. Why didn’t Dean tell me?

“What should we do with him, boss?” The one on my right asks.

“Let him go.” They gape at him and so do I. “The debt has been paid.” I see them nod from the corner of my eye but I don’t take mine off of Azazel.

“What’s the catch?” I snap, narrowing my eyes. He just grins, baring his wicked teeth. It’s a threat—I know that much.

“No catch; you’re free to go.” The men on either side of me shift, one grabbing the bag while the other holds me. “You’ll be back though; the drugs keep you tied to me. You think you can fight it, you think you can win, but you can’t. I always win in the end.” Those gleaming yellow eyes punch through me, burning their image into my mind for the rest of my life. They’re the last thing I see before the bag is pulled down over my head.

 

**_December 25, 2018_ **

_CASTIEL_

I wake slowly, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face through the open blinds and rolling away from it. I stretch, extending my arms over my head with a moan as I open my eyes and glance to my left. Dean hasn’t moved but his chest rises and falls with every deep, even breath.

I jerk up when a clattering sound comes down the hall, sending my heart racing before I remember my mom is here. Making breakfast, probably, and a twinge of something I can’t name settles in my chest. I love my mom, but…but it’s been almost a decade since…

I shake the thought out of my head and lean over to press a soft kiss to Dean’s temple. He doesn’t stir but I smile anyway, glad he’s getting the sleep he needs.

I head for the bathroom, taking my time showering and brushing my teeth—even tidying up a little—to put off being alone with her and all her prying questions. But, eventually, I’m showered and dressed and shaved and it’s unavoidable. I kneel beside Dean and brush a loose strand of hair from his eyes. I take in the way his eyelashes fan out, dark and thick and too long for any man—but beautiful, always beautiful. His freckles have faded somewhat from the lack of sun but they’re still visible—still too numerous to count. He drools a little, leaving a puddle on the pillowcase, but somehow even that’s endearing. I kiss his nose before heaving myself up with a heavy sigh and turning for the door.

The clanging has ceased but I can still hear her puttering around as I scoop Luna into my arms, scratching behind her ears as she rubs her face into the tacky Christmas vest Dean bought for me a while ago. I wear it over a white dress shirt and a blue and white striped tie.

She doesn’t look up when I enter and at first, I think it’s because she doesn’t hear me but as I approach her, I hear a soft sniffle as she wipes her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Mom?” Concern bubbles in my chest when she starts flailing her arms around, refusing to look at me as she tries to regain control over her emotions. I set Luna down and walk up behind her slowly—cautiously—and place a gentle hand on her shoulder. A gut-wrenching sob escapes her as she spins, burring her face in my chest and clinging to my vest with tight fists.

I just stand there for a moment, too bewildered to do anything but stare, wide-eyed, down at my mess of a mother. Eventually, I pull myself together enough to wrap my arms around her shoulders, swaying gently as I shush her. All the possibilities of what could’ve instigated this meltdown race through my head but I don’t ask, letting her take her time to calm down before she decides to speak.

“I’m sorry.” She pulls away and sniffles loudly, smoothing out the rumples where her fists gripped my vest. Her red-rimmed eyes won’t meet mine as she fusses over me. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Fluffing the hair from her eyes, she takes a deep, steadying breath before looking at me with an over exaggerated, fake smile.

It falls away quickly.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Should I reach out to her? Take her hands, maybe? I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve interacted with her in person, and we were never excessively loving. Not in that sense, anyway. I don’t take her hands, reaching around her to turn off the waffle iron instead.

“I just…” She takes another breath and stares at my chest while wiping the tears from beneath her eyes. “I guess I realized I don’t know you anymore. I know we talk on the phone but it’s not the same.” Her face crumples again and my heart breaks a little. She used to be such a strong woman—so level-headed and unshakeable. The woman standing in front of me now is lightyears from the one who raised me. I guess there’s good and bad in that. “You’re my baby—my youngest son—and I’ve missed years of your life because I couldn’t see…I refused to see—” Her voice breaks as more sobs spill out and this time I do pull her into me.

I suddenly feel the lost time with an intensity that matches hers as my throat closes with emotion. I swallow hard a few times as regret clouds my mind. Yeah, we’ve had our difference—okay, more than just _differences_ —but it’s been years. Time to let go of the past and move on.

A tightness in my chest loosens—one I wasn’t aware of—and I breathe easy in a way I haven’t in a long time. I forgive her. What she did was wrong but still, I forgive her.

We stand like that for a little while longer as she pulls herself together and I come to terms with everything. My life is so different now—so different from even a few months ago—that it all just seems irrelevant.

She steps back and smiles, turning to the waffles without another word. I grab some coffee and leave her to it, heading for the living room to turn on some music. I fight with the TV for a few minutes, trying to get the Bluetooth to work for the speakers before Christmas music finally starts flowing through the house. I straighten with my hands on my hips, a satisfied grin on my face.

“Breakfast is ready when you are!” I hurry into the kitchen before stopping. Will Dean want some? Will he even be awake anytime soon? “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll be right back,” I say, turning on my heel and heading for the bedroom without any further explanation.

I open the door and look in, seeing Dean’s face clearly even though the lights are off; the sun streaming in lights up the room. His eyes are open but he doesn’t react to my presence, just staring off into the middle ground as if deep in thought.

“Dean?” His eyes flick to me and a small smile curves his lips before he closes his eyes, not moving in any other way. I cross the room with a few long strides and squat beside the bed so our faces are level with each other, running my fingers over his stubbled jaw. He opens his eyes and meets mine. There’s peace in their depths and he smiles at me again.

“Hey, Cas.” It’s barely a whisper and dragged down by the weight of the sleeping pills but his voice is the most beautiful thing I’ve heard today.

“Sleep well?” He nods but doesn’t answer otherwise. “Do you want to get up?” I push the hair back from his face and run my fingers through it as his eyes fall closed again.

“Not yet. Lay with me?” I shift uncomfortably, looking away from his pleading eyes as nervousness starts to settle in my gut.

“My, uh…my mom’s here.”

Dean’s eyes narrow sharply and he’s a little more alert now as he watches me with keen eyes, watching for my feelings on it, I suppose. I honestly don’t know how to feel and I don’t really want to think about it with all the stress of tomorrow hanging over my head. “Are you okay with that, because I have no problem kicking her out if she’s gonna be a problem.”

A fond smile curves my lips as my heart warms. _You’re so good to me, Dean Winchester._ “It’s fine, really. She’s making waffles.” I raise an eyebrow and stand, moving to the closet to grab Dean’s Christmas Outfit. I roll my eyes at the words written on the red wool but I can’t help but think it’s perfectly _Dean_. I can feel his eyes on me as I wander through the room, picking up dirty clothes and putting things where they belong.

I guess he decides I’m really okay and pushes himself up into a sitting position with far more effort than what would appear to be necessary. What is in those pills? Horse tranquilizer? “God, I’m starving,” he mumbles, rubbing his drooping eyelids and shaking his head. I bring him his clothes before standing there awkwardly, not really knowing if I should offer help or not. “I can get dressed by myself, Cas.”

I purse my lips as I watch him struggle with the sweater. “Somehow, I doubt that.” But I don’t offer, moving to lean against the wall to watch him. I cross my arms over my chest and one ankle over the other. If he doesn’t want help, then I won’t help, but that doesn’t mean I’m leaving.

He huffs but is too focused on trying to get his limbs to cooperate that he doesn’t reply, instead, getting his head caught in the armhole of his sweater.

A burst of laughter escapes me before I can hold it back but Dean just grunts, still struggling as more laughter spills out. Before I know it, I’m doubled over with deep, belly laughs as Dean manages to get his arm through the head hole but still refuses to ask for help.

It’s only when he jerks too hard and ends up sprawled on the floor that I straighten up from the wall.

“Hey, Cas?” He’s not moving anymore, succumbing to his fate.

“Yes, Dean?” I say through my laughter as I wipe tears from my eyes. I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in…well…ever, maybe.

“A little help would be awesome.”

I roll my eyes and grab my phone to snap a picture of him laid out with a sweater on his head and his bare ass on display before putting it away. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

The waffles are cold by the time I get Dean to the kitchen and my mom has finished the dishes as well as her own waffles. Dean’s still drowsy but he’s awake enough to greet her politely and thank her for the food.

He eats slowly as I watch him, noticing how much better he looks just from getting a good night’s sleep. He’s not nearly as pale and his eyes aren’t bloodshot and wild anymore. There’s still dark circle under his eyes but they’ll ease with time and good rest. His hair is a mess from going to bed with it wet but, honestly, it’s hot. I want to run my fingers through it all day, just feeling the strands between my fingers.

He catches me staring but only smiles lazily before looking back at his waffles. I can feel Mom watching us, her eyes burning into the side of my head as we eat. Curiosity practically radiates off her.

“Do you want some coffee?” I ask, my voice low and gentle. I don’t know why; he’s not nearly as fragile as he was even yesterday. But still.

His big green eyes meet mine, loving and pleading, happy and drowsy. “Please?”

I can’t help but grin back as I stand, pouring Dean a cup of coffee; black, just how he likes.

When I set it in front of him, he immediately grabs it with both hands and takes a sip, wincing when it burns his tongue but closing his eyes in pure bliss at the flavor. It makes me laugh.

“So, Dean, what is it you do?”

My eyes snap to my mom as she watches him intently. Nervous energy settles in my stomach and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Yeah, Dean’s job can be dangerous but it’s relatively normal, even if I don’t like that he puts himself in any kind of danger. Dean needs that; the adrenaline rush keeps him going and saving lives gives him purpose.

Dean swallows the food in his mouth and takes a sip of coffee before answering. “Firefighter down at Lawrence Fire Station.” Outwardly he’s calm—almost indifferent—but I catch the sadness in his voice—the longing to get back to saving lives. He glances at me, seeing that I’ve caught it. He turns back to my mom but his hand slides over my knee, reassuring me that it’s all right.

She asks more questions about his job and he gives more answers, though he gets a little more closed off when she asks him why he decided to be a firefighter; instead, giving her the brief version of wanting to do some good in the world. I squeeze the hand that still rests on my knee.

I tune them out as I finish my breakfast, satisfied that Mom likes Dean, and Dean likes Mom. I don’t know why I thought she wouldn’t like him; Dean’s incredibly charming. But the doubt was still there, especially after everything he did to me in the past. Does she not think _this_ Dean is the same one from high school? It’s possible, and in all the places it really matters, he’s not the same. He’s softer—kinder and more open—but not everyone can comprehend that. Not even _I_ could when he walked into my flower shop all that time ago.

I study her face, catching only the slightest bit of confusion—recognition on some level—but she doesn’t seem too focused on it so I don’t worry. For now, at least. It’s not like they met very often when we were in high school; maybe once or twice at the most. It’s fine. It will be fine.

We clean up our own dishes when we finish—I wash while Dean dries and puts away—while my mom runs some errands. By the time we reach the last dish, we’re both covered in bubbles and doubled over with laughter. He’s far more awake now, with coffee and food in his system, though his movements are still a little sluggish, allowing me to smear bubbles across his cheeks while dodging his counterattacks.

I go for his waist, knowing he’s just as ticklish as I am, and dig my fingers in. He jerks away but not without getting a huge handful of bubbles in my hair. I gasp in horror, feigning anger as Dean laughs.

“Oh, c’mon, Cas! It’s funny!”

I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. He stops laughing but I can see he’s fighting a smile. I fight my own, doing a better job than he does to look serious.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He moves closer and I uncross my arms as he reaches for the bubbles still in my hair, trying in vain to brush them away.

He’s distracted and I use his concern to reach for a handful of bubbles in the sink. My heart kicks in my chest when his eyes meet mine and I bite my bottom lip, momentarily distracted by the love in his eyes. He kisses me and I let him, closing my eyes and soaking it in.

I smear my handful of bubbles in his hair and down his face, pulling away from him when his eyes widen and his jaw drops in shock. I throw my head back and laugh. Laugh and laugh and laugh.

“Damn, you’re dirty,” he smirks, taking a step forward. I straighten up and back away, laughter still rolling out of me. “You wanna play that game?” Water drips from his hair and down his cheek. I can’t help wanting to lick it off. Another step forward, another step back. He stalks me around the island, grinning the whole time. I know he won’t hurt me—not for anything in the world—but adrenaline still races through me at being hunted. It’s thrilling, playing these games with Dean.

I can’t help but see the heat in his gaze and feel it burn in myself as Dean looks at me through half-lidded eyes, his lashes sweeping low with that wicked smirk on his lips. What I wish for those lips to do to me…

He lunges around the island and I yelp, but he’s still too slow as I turn and run for the living room. It’s almost too easy, being closer to the door and faster than Dean in this moment. He chases me but I don’t go far, choosing instead to launch myself onto the couch in a fit of laughter. Dean follows, laying himself on top of me and tickling mercilessly.

I buck against him, twisting and writhing to dislodge his hold but failing as streams of laughter flow out of me. Joy bubbles in my stomach, so much stronger than anything I’ve ever felt as Dean smiles down at me, his smile splitting his face in two. _God, I love you_.

We’re both panting when he finally stops, pulling away so he straddles my hips and grins down at me. Love swells in my chest and before I know what I’m doing, I wrap a hand around the back of his neck and pull him down, our lips crashing together in a way that’s almost painful.

But, oh God, does it make me feel whole.

His hands push their way into my hair, nails scratching at my scalp as I wrap my legs around his waist and move my hands beneath his sweater, feeling the hot skin of his back against my fingers while pulling him closer to my chest.

“How long until your mom gets back?” Dean pants between kisses before pulling away to kiss along my jaw, nipping and sucking in a way that pulls moan after moan from my lips.

“A few…hours,” I huff, closing my eyes against the torrent of pleasure rushing through me with every shift of Dean’s hips against mine. “She always took— _shit_ , Dean—forever to…to shop.” The breath in my lungs is punched out with a particularly hard grind of Dean’s hips, rubbing our throbbing erections together and creating the most delicious friction.

I buck up into him, whimpering and shivering as Dean sucks on the sensitive skin below my ear. He sucks hard enough to leave a mark before nipping lightly as his hands move to my vest, fumbling with the buttons before shoving it off my shoulders and down my arms. I sit up, taking it off the rest of the way and tossing it across the room before laying back down.

Dean just watches me for a moment with a soft smile that tells me more than his words ever could. I place my hands on his thighs, spreading my fingers wide and flexing them softly. The bulge at the front is unmistakable and he groans when my fingertips graze the outline. My mouth waters and I reach for his belt buckle as arousal, so strong and insistent, pulses through me.

“Cas,” Dean gasps as I undo the buckle and reach for the button, undoing that too before slowly tugging down the zipper. I glance up at him, meeting his eyes and seeing the lust blown pupils and flushed cheeks. He’s panting, wanting it so bad he shakes. I lick my lips and watch as his eyes follow the path. “You don’t have to that.”

“I want to.” With that, I tug his jeans down as far as I can with him straddling me—which is just past his cock. I tug his boxers down too and let his heavy cock free before looking up at him through my lashes. “Are we doing this here?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Dean pants and I jerk on his pants, tugging him forward. He braces his hands on the armrest behind my head, lining up his erection with my waiting mouth. I take him in one hand and flick my tongue out in gentle, barely there licks, tasting the pre-come at the slit. He grunts, his hips jerking of their own accord as I do this again and again.

I start moving my hand up and down, jerking him with long, slow pulls while taking just the head into my mouth and sucking lightly. Spurts of pre-come coat my tongue, both salty and bitter and just… _Dean_.

I take him in further, sucking harder and laving my tongue over the hot hardness as heat coils low in my stomach, filling my cock as it rubs almost painfully against my zipper.

Dean moans as his hips start to move, slow at first, but gradually gaining speed as he finds a rhythm, grunting every time he hits the back of my throat. I do my best not to gag as tears prick my eyes and jerk him harder, grabbing his fleshy ass and digging my nails in as he thrusts into my mouth, his dick so coated in saliva that it starts running down my chin.

“Look at me.” His voice is a rough growl and I obey, glancing up to meet half-lidded, green eyes, drowning in arousal as his mouth hangs open, panting heavily. “Oh, fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You like sucking my cock, Cas?” I do my best to nod as wave after wave of pleasure hits me. “Taking it down your throat? Tasting me?” He grips my hair in one hand while the other still holds him up, moving my head in time with his hips. I let him, taking my hand away and digging my nails into the back of his thighs.

With a shout, he comes, filling my mouth with hot semen, never breaking eye contact. I smile the best I can around his twitching dick, sucking softly until he pulls away, too sensitive for any more. I swallow, licking my lips to get every drop, as Dean settles himself back on my hips, grinding down on my aching cock. I groan, my eyes rolling back in my head as I close them, my jaw going slack.

With his hands planted firmly on my chest, Dean rocks his hips, grinding down on me over and over as the pleasure rises to a fevered pitch. It’s right there, just out of reach. I open my eyes, gasping for breath, and reach for Dean, grabbing at his shirt to get his attention.

“More. I need more.”

He just nods, quickly undoing my pants and pulling out my cock. It’s red and angry-looking; the head, swollen and dripping. Dean swallows it, taking me all the way in and sucking. Hard. That’s all it takes.

My back arches off the cushions as I come with a shout, trembling from the overwhelming pleasure as spurt after spurt of come shoots down Dean’s throat and seeps out the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t stop sucking as I soften in his mouth, my come leaking out and dripping on my thighs. Dean releases me and, noticing his mess, licks it from my legs. I moan—that’s so fucking hot.

My heart starts to settle as Dean tucks me back into my pants, doing them up before looking at me from between my legs. His face is still flushed—happy and beautiful and sated—and I can’t help but stare. Then we laugh. Hard and long. Dean climbs up my body and settles on top of me, chuckling the whole time. Then we’re kissing and laughing and everything bubbles over. All our crazy happiness and all our wild love, coming out in laughter.

“God, I’m so lucky to love you,” I whisper against his lips, my eyes never leaving his as his fingers slowly thread through my hair.

“I’m lucky you love me, too.”

 

_DEAN_

I feel light as air; well rested and happy as Cas smiles up at me. That fucking smile…I could live a thousand years and nothing will ever match that smile. Leaning down, I press my lips to his as laughter bubbles up inside. There’s no reason for it other than pure, unrestrained joy. Cas gets that—I know he does.

I sit up, pulling him with me and tucking myself back into my pants before getting off the couch and pulling Cas up with me. His legs wobble and I smirk. Damn, I’m good.

“So…a Christmas movie?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at Cas’s still dazed face. He only nods before wrapping a hand around the back of my neck and pulling me down to him. I twine my fingers through his hair and rest my other hand at the small of his back, pulling him in as he opens his mouth to me. I take full advantage, plunging my tongue in, exploring every corner of his mouth and feeling his smile against mine. His hands fist in the back of my sweater but we don’t do more than kiss—kissing just for the sake of kissing.

I pull him in closer, not wanting any space in-between and he seems to agree. Not for the first time, the feeling of being _home_ steals over me and I give in to it, letting myself love and be loved back in a way that I’ve never been able to—in a way I’ve been too afraid to. Love means vulnerability and I don’t do well with that. Never have.

But this? With Cas? I can do this. I’ve waited so long and fought so hard for this and, yeah, it’s not perfect and we’re both a little broken but it’s good and it’s enough. It has to be.

“Oh!” A startled voice comes from the entryway and I jerk my head up, seeing Naomi’s blushing face as she stares, wide-eyed at us. “Am I interrupting something?” She doesn’t look like she’s about to leave though, resting her hip against the wall and watching intently—waiting for an answer. How socially awkward can one family _be?_

“Uh, no,” I say, placing my hands on Cas’s waist, trying—and failing—to discreetly tuck his shirt back into his pants. She, of course, notices and her blush deepens as she hurries into the kitchen with some groceries.

“I’ll just…uh—put these away.” Cas doesn’t seem to notice the tension, though, as he finishes tucking in his shirt and fixes his tie—which is absolutely adorable no matter what Cas says—before picking up his vest and putting it back on.

We sit side by side on the couch and Cas chooses one of the hundreds of Christmas films playing on a loop on every channel. He picks _Home Alone_ and leans his head on my shoulder as I run my fingers through his hair. Naomi joins us eventually, taking one of the chairs and crossing her legs, her back straight and proper as she holds a mug with delicate fingers. Cas is like her in so many ways—it’s almost strange to see, actually. This man I love so much was made this way but some things were just inevitable; I product of who he was born to.

I try to focus on the movie but eventually, I doze off, soothed by the slow rhythm of Cas’s breaths.

 

“Ow! What the fuck?” I shout, shooting up on the couch and glaring, bleary-eyed, at Gabe’s smirking face.

“Gabe!” I hear Cas snap from the kitchen as I rub my temple where he flicked me. His glare is scarier than mine and I can’t hold back my chuckle at Gabe’s face.

“He’s been sleeping for hours! It’s Christmas!” He holds his hands out to both sides as he pleads his case but Cas isn’t having any of it.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before he attacks.” My grin widens when I hear Sammy. I stand and round the couch, digging my elbow into Gabe’s side as I pass before wrapping Sam in a hug. “Good to see you.”

“You too, you look good.” I step back, taking in my giant of a brother. He’s gained some muscle and his hair is a little longer than before. I pat his cheek and smile.

I vaguely hear Cas lecturing Gabe behind me and grin, but don’t interfere. “How’d your exams go?”

Sam’s grin widens. “Really well, I think. I won’t get the results until after break but Gabe’s a good teacher. And you and Cas? You’re still good?”

My smile softens. “Yeah, real good.” We just stand there for a minute, taking in all the good in our lives. “Wanna grab a beer?” I slap his shoulder and don’t wait for an answer as I turn, smirking at Gabe as we pass him and Cas. Cas is still lecturing and I decide not to intervene, letting him suffer through a little longer. “Where’s Bobby and Ellen?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder to scan the living room.

“Not here yet. We came a little early; it’s only five.”

I nod, grabbing a beer from the bottom shelf and popping the cap off before handing it to Sam and grabbing my own. He takes a swig and leans back against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. I do the same, standing beside him.

“Any news on the trial?”

I glance over at him before shifting my stance, feeling suddenly held down by the world.

“Cas and I were called in to make our statements but other than that, nothing yet. Jo thinks things will pick up after next week. She hasn’t said why but I’m hoping they're doing a raid of one of his compounds or something.” I shrug, trying not to let my unease show. Cas and I don’t talk about it; it makes him all jittery and nervous so I don’t bring it up.

“They’ve got him though, right?”

I nod, taking another swig of my beer. “Want some eggnog?” I raise an eyebrow at him, pushing myself off the counter and heading for the fridge before he can even answer.

He downs his beer. “Hell yeah!”

 

“Cas, you’re gonna get a stomach ache!” I can’t hold back a laugh as he gives me side-eye from the seat next to mine at my dining room table. His plate is heaped with Ellen’s potato salad and he’s plowing it back, adding more as his plate empties. “Have some turkey or something.”

He rolls his eyes, his cheeks filled with potato salad, but he complies, snatching the turkey from my plate and setting it on his own.

“Hey!” I snap but let him have it. He finishes what’s in his mouth and grins at me. I can’t help kissing him as I sneakily add some green beans to his plate while his eyes are closed, his lips pressed to mine.

“When’re you going back to work, Boy?”

I turn my attention from Cas to Bobby, who sits at the head of the table with Jo on one side and Ellen on the other. Charlie sits beside Jo and Cas is beside her. I’m at the other end of the table with Sam beside me, and Gabe then Naomi beside him. He watches me with a content little smile on his lips, just happy I’m happy.

“After the holiday’s I think they said. Rufus talk to you?”

He nods, cutting through his turkey. “He says the place is going to shit without you.” He shrugs with a smirk. “Also said not to tell you that.”

I chuckle, sitting back in my chair with a nod. “Don’t you worry, I know he misses this pretty face.” I wink and he rolls his eyes. “Benny’s told me as much, anyway.” I shrug, smirking down at my plate when I hear a muffled _idjit_ from across the table.

Conversation shifts to Jo and Charlie’s wedding, which they’ve decided will take place in early June. They already have a location—some fancy-dancey upscale place downtown—and are deciding on color schemes for their save-the-dates. I tune them out partway through, focussing instead on how intently Cas is listening. With his elbow resting on the table and chin on his fist, he watches, taking in everything they have to say in a way that only he can. His eyes have a light in them that’s new. Everything he does makes me smile, I swear.

Dessert is served—some weird trifle thing as well as homemade cherry pie, just for me—and we eat in the living room. Bobby lowers himself in the recliner beside the tree with a groan; a beer in one hand and his dessert in the other as he waits for everyone to sit so he can start calling out presents.

Cas and I sit on the couch and he curls into my side, resting his head on my shoulder while I wrap an arm around him, breathing in the scent of my shampoo in his hair, and below that, just Cas. Sam and Gabe sit beside us, jabbing each other in the ribs and stepping on each other’s toes—just generally acting like children. Naomi and Ellen take the other two chairs while Jo and Charlie sit on the floor, back leaning against the wall under the TV. Charlie has her camera out, going through pictures while Jo looks over her shoulder.

The tree lights are on, creating a homey glow combined with the candles Ellen has burning on my coffee table. The whole place smells like sugar cookies and cinnamon but I really just can’t bring myself to care right now.

Bobby picks up a present and starts calling names and soon, my living room is covered in scraps of paper which Luna gleefully rolls in. Bobby picks up my gift to Cas and reads the name.

Cas sits up, taking the poorly wrapped box from my hands and tearing at the paper. He opens the box and laughs when he sees what’s inside. I grin too. “You can just borrow my cowboy boots,” I whisper in his ear before kissing his cheek.

“You are incorrigible, Dean Winchester,” he sighs.

“Look underneath.” I watch as Cas pushes the lab coat and stethoscope out of the way to get at the real gift. He pulls out a pamphlet and starts reading and my heart kicks in my chest.

“Amherst…Concord…Lenox, Massachusetts? Dean, what are—” He cuts himself off, realizing the significance of the places. “We’re going?” It’s barely a whisper, spoken on a fragile hope with wide, shining eyes.

“For Valentine’s Day,” I confirm and then his arms are around my neck and his lips are on mine and I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. He peppers kisses all over my face before sitting back down and looking at all three pamphlets at once, fanned out in his hands.

“If this is your way of killing two birds with one stone, you are not getting away with it.” Damn. He doesn’t look up at me—still too busy smiling at the pamphlets—but I know he knows I know I’m caught.

I move a hand under his chin and bring his face up so I can reach his cheek, planting a wet kiss there while he laughs. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?” His elbow jabs into my ribs and I grunt, pressing my cheek to his and glancing up just in time to see the flash of Charlie’s camera. “Charlie!” I snap but she just sticks her tongue out at me. I’ll have to get that picture from her.

Bobby hands me the blue bag with purple tissue paper and I take, my eyes shooting over to Cas whose face is suddenly nervous. I pull out the paper and look inside, my throat getting suddenly very tight when I see what’s there. Pulling out the little book, I stare at the front cover; at the little square photo of Cas and I. It isn’t recent—from years long forgotten—but we’re smiling, not at the camera, but at each other.

I clear my throat as I flip it open, coming to another photo of the two of us. We’re at a table, bent over books and papers. It’s almost as if we don’t even know the camera’s there.

“Who took these?” I whisper, my throat too tight to speak any louder.

“Gabe, mostly. Some were Anna and Charlie. I wrote the descriptions.” His eyes flick over my face. “Do you like it?”

I flip through the pages—taking in all the photos—every one hitting something inside me. “Cas, I—” My voice breaks but everyone is too busy opening their own gifts to notice. “I love it. Thank you.”

He visibly relaxes, his shoulder sagging as he finally smiles. I pull him into me for a hug and kiss the top of his head, closing my eyes and soaking him in.

“Look! It’s snowing!” Charlie jumps up from the ground and runs to the window, staring out at the darkening sky as streetlights start to come on, one by one all the way down the street. Sammy taps my shoulder over Cas and I look away from the window at him.

 _Ready?_ he mouths and I frown in confusion. He rolls his eyes and points at Cas. _Cas’s other gift!_ I think hard on what that could possibly be, then it hits me and my eyes widen. I nod frantically and stand, pulling Cas up with me.

“We’ll be gone for a bit, don’t leave until we get back,” I say to Bobby, who just nods, knowing where we’re going.

“ _Dean!_ ” Cas snaps. “We are not having sex right now!” It’s low enough that no one but me can hear but I throw my head back laughing and so does Sam, guessing what was said.

“Not that; I have another surprise for you, and before you say anything,” I say quickly, cutting off any protest he might have as he opens his mouth. “Our brothers are coming; we’re taking a drive.” He gives me a weird look but doesn’t comment. “And I’m blindfolding you.”

His nose scrunches up. “I don’t think I want to see you anymore.”

I just laugh and lead him to the door, following Sam and Gabe’s lead as we get dressed and head for my car. I toss Sammy the keys, knowing I can’t drive while taking sleeping pills, and ignore the look he gives me as I get in the back and pull out a scarf to tie over Cas’s eyes. “You were serious?”

“As a heart attack. Turn around.” He looks at me for another moment before complying, shifting in his seat with a huff and looking out the window at the gently falling snow before the sight is taken away from him.

I wrap an arm around his shoulders when the blindfold is in place and pull him into my side as he grumbles. Sam drives slow since the roads are slick so it takes a little longer than normal to get across town.

“If you’re planning to dump me somewhere, just tell me now so I know to punch you in the nuts first.”

I roll my eyes at his dramatics but pull him closer, feeling his warm breath on my neck as classic rock plays softly through the speakers. “I just might if you don’t stop whining.” I grunt when Cas’s elbow hits my ribs. Thankfully, we pull up to our destination and nervous energy rushes through me for the first time. Who knows how Cas will react, especially since this is his first time back here since…

Okay, it’s _both_ of our first time back and I’d be lying if I said residual fear isn’t trying to take over. I swallow it back and get out, rounding the car to help Cas out before positioning him in front of the building on the sidewalk. I take a deep breath, glancing at both Gabe and Sam as I stand behind Cas. They nod and I bend so that my chin rests on Cas’s shoulder.

I pull the blindfold off.

First, there’s nothing. No reaction whatsoever as he blinks in his surroundings. Then, a gasp. He covers his mouth, staring wide-eyed at his store. It’s so much the same and yet, so different. “We replaced the glass in the front window so it’s bulletproof and there’s a top-of-the-line security system with motion sensors and video cameras. All the doors have been replaced and the locks reinforced so no one can break in…” I trail off when Cas doesn’t react, feeling a little scared now.

“We cleaned up the mess; can’t even tell there was one.” Gabe says, knocking Cas’s shoulder. “What do you think, Cassie?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time, just taking it all in before stepping forward cautiously. “It’s—it’s…” His hands drop to his sides and he turns, facing us with a smile that lights up the night. “It’s wonderful!” I stumble when he throws himself on me, his arms going around my neck as I hit the car. But the relief…oh, the relief I feel. And the happiness; God, I’m so happy. Happy because Cas is happy. “But how…how can you afford this? It’s so expensive.”

“Don’t worry about that.” I smile, pulling away a little and resting my hands on his hips. He runs his hands over my chest, still looking concerned.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“It’s a Christmas gift. Your peace of mind is worth far more than any amount of money.”

His hand comes up to my cheek, stroking lightly as he smiles; a soft, loving look in his eyes that I don’t think I’ll ever forget as long as I live.

“Can we go in?”

“Of course; it’s your store,” I laugh, handing over the key and watching him practically bounce to the door as Sam, Gabe, and I follow close behind. The bell above the door rings as we enter and I close it behind us, punching in the alarm deactivation code before showing Cas what to do. He nods along the whole time, listening intently before roaming through the rows of freshly ordered flowers. That one required some help from Hannah but we got it done with only a few minor hiccups, but, hey, the smile on Cas’s face is worth a thousand hiccups.

Cas goes through everything twice, getting me to show him how it all works before going upstairs to grab some clothes and meeting us outside. He sets the alarm before I lock the door and hand him the key. The smile on his face doesn’t falter for a second.

The snow is coming down in thick flakes and soon there are a few inches blanketing the ground. Sam drives even more carefully and it takes us that much longer to get back. By the time we do, it’s officially dark outside and the tree lights glow through the front window. I’m surprised to see everyone outside, even Naomi, who has been relatively quiet all night besides small conversations with Ellen and Bobby here and there.

We get out and I pull Cas under my arm while he wraps his around my waist. “So, what do you say to some hot choco—” My words are cut off by icy snow hitting my face. I brush it away, turning to Gabe with a ball-shriveling glare before I bend to scoop up a snowball of my own. He starts to run and I peg him in the back of my head, watching as he trips and faceplates in the snow. I throw my head back on a laugh as the snow melts on my face, dripping down my collar and warming on my chest.

This starts an all-out war. We break off into two teams—Sam, Jo, and I against Gabe, Charlie, and Cas. With every attempt Cas makes, I laugh. He hasn’t gotten any better at sports since high school, it seems.

We run around the yard, laughing and shouting like a bunch of kids instead of the grown ass adults we are. After about an hour we’re all soaking wet and out of breath, shivering as we lay in the snow on the front yard, staring up at the whirlwind of snowflakes coming down on us.

I glance over at Cas and find him looking at me as he slowing moves his arms and legs to make a snow angel. I grin, flicking snow in his face and watching him jerk back in annoyance. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

I just nod, rolling over until I’m on top of him, every inch of me touching every inch of him. “But you love me anyway,” I shrug, running my fingers through his wet and wild hair. His face is pink from the cold and each breath visibly hits my face but he seems content. Happy, even, with a glow in his bright blue eyes. They scan my face, looking me over as I watch him, feeling the heat of his body radiate into mine.

“I do, yes.” His hands come up to my face, scratching at my stubble before pulling me down. I go willingly, my mouth meeting his so softly that it’s barely a kiss. Then harder, but still slow and sweet.

His lips are wet and shiny when I pull away, grinning down at him as he starts to shiver. We’ll have to go in soon and maybe have some of that hot chocolate I got from Ellen. But for now, we stay put as the snow falls on us and Christmas lights light up the sky.

“Merry Christmas,” Cas whispers, biting his bottom lip and wrapping his arms around my back.

I grin. “Merry Christmas, angel mine.”


	22. The Color Of Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK ME SO LONG!!!
> 
> I'm sorry for the wait but school is nuts and, honestly, I think I'm losing motivation for this story. I WILL finish it but it might take me longer than I originally expected it to so stick with me.
> 
> This chapter could be hit or miss, I don't know. Let me know what you think in the comments! Seriously, your feedback is so important to me and keeps me motivated to write.
> 
> Finally, I'm looking for one or two people to be beta readers for the final chapters so let me know if you're interested!
> 
> Okay okay, I hope you love this chapter!

**_November 24, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

“Come on! I can’t beat you properly if you don’t pay attention!”

I jerk from my thoughts, refocussing on Charlie as she whines from across the desk, a chess board between us. “Sorry…sorry.” I shake my head, clearing Dean’s smile from my mind’s eye and staring down at the game. I’m losing, of course; even if I were paying attention, I’d be losing. But Dean’s crooked grin keeps creeping into my thoughts, stealing my concentration as Charlie huffs. Last night was…everything. From the dinner to the car ride. Yeah, okay, I know it actually doesn’t mean anything—not to Dean anyway—-but I need…I need this. I need to pretend it’s all real. That’s what’s scary about all this; it doesn’t _feel_ fake. It feels so real that the lines are blurring—I can’t tell between reality and fantasy anymore and I really don’t want to.

“Castiel!”

“Sorry!” I make my move, not thinking at all of strategy. She sighs, shaking her head and moving her piece—I don’t see which one.

“Checkmate.” I lean back in my chair as she resets the board, for once not mentioning my defeat.

It’s after four o’clock—the football team will be well into practice by now, perfecting their plays for their upcoming games. Dean hasn’t invited me to any more of them but that’s okay; I know people will get suspicious if I keep showing up—that’s what Dean says anyway. I can’t help remembering the night after the one game I went to, though—my first time in his room, in his bed…

“What’s that smile for? Or should I ask _who_?” Charlie leans forward, resting her elbow on the table and her chin on her fist. Her eyes shine mischievously and I swallow hard, carefully fixing my expression to one of passive confusion. She just stares me down, knowing all my faces and exactly when I’m hiding something.

I sigh, flicking over my king before I’ve made my first move. “Dean Winchester,” I whisper, not looking her in the eyes and instead focussing on my overturned king, rolling it back and forth under my finger.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right because you did _not_ just say _Dean Winchester,_ ” she hisses his name, leaning across the table with an irritated glare. “You wouldn’t be that stupid.”

I shrug, still refusing to meet her daggers head-on. “I tutor him.”

“That’s not a smile for a student, Castiel. What are you doing?”

I press down hard on the piece, its edges digging into the pad of my finger. I wince but don’t stop. “I’m…happy.” This time, I do glance up at her and the pity in her eyes is almost too much. “He makes me happy.”

“I think you’ve forgotten how horrible he is. Do I need to remind you? Remember when he dislocated your shoulder? How about the time he broke your leg? Or was it your arm?” Her eyes widen as she holds both hands out at her sides. “Oh wait! It was both! And countless other bones, too!” Her wild red hair whips around her face as she gesticulates.

“I know,” I murmur, the king shooting out from under my finger when I press down too hard, flying across the room and under a table. “I know, Charlie, but this is different. He…he—”

“He’s straight, Castiel. He’s always been clear on that fact.” There’s no edge to her voice—she doesn’t say these things to hurt me—but it stings all the same because I know she’s telling the truth. Dean has never—not once—said he’s gay or bisexual or anything like that. He _has_ said he’s straight, though. Repeatedly.

But…you don’t do all of what we have done together if you’re strictly heterosexual. You don’t; it just doesn’t work that way. And as far as keeping my heart intact…yeah, I have to believe I’m more than just a…well—another _hole_ for Dean.

“I know that,” I whisper, resting my elbows on the table and my head in my hands. “But it’s…I don’t know. It’s different.” I look at her with pleading eyes, begging her to understand—to believe me and trust in what I tell her. “I love him.” My voice is so low, I barely hear it but I know Charlie does, just by the widening of her eyes. “And I know you’re going to say I’m foolish but I don’t care. I know how this is—I know it can’t go anywhere and no one can ever find out, but…” I open my mouth and look at the ceiling, searching desperately for the words to convince her. I don’t find them so instead, I shrug and say, “I love him.”

She doesn’t say anything though, flipping her fiery hair over her shoulder with a nod and holding my gaze until I have to look away.

“Who’s got your heart now?” Balthazar saunters up behind me and I jump, my heart leaping into my throat as I say, “no one” and Charlie says, “Dean.” I gape at her as my heart sinks. She claps her hands over her mouth before mouthing _sorry_. I sigh, closing my eyes and sagging in my chair. “Are you really that stupid?” My eyes snap to his and I glare, feeling anger surge inside me. Is _he_ really judging me? Of all people, he’s the last person to have that right. “I mean, you can’t be serious? Why would _Dean Winchester—_ ”

“Just shut up! I don’t care what you think, okay? Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t jump on him the first chance you got,” I snap, watching him stutter and stumble over his words, looking for a way to deny mine. He can’t, though, because he knows it’s true.

“Whatever,” he grunts. “Don’t come crying to me when he tosses you aside.” Then he spins on his heel and walks away as acid settles in my stomach.

 

**_December 26, 2018_ **

_DEAN_

Cas sits tensely on the bench seat beside me, staring out the window as buildings turn to trees, then trees to houses. All the ease of yesterday is gone, replaced by tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

I didn’t take a sleeping pill last night; the peacefulness of the day allowing me to fall into a relatively dreamless sleep. Cas helps, too, but he’s not a cure-all and there were moments during the night where I jerked awake from nightmares I couldn’t—and still can’t—remember.

So I drive us to his family Christmas with Gabe and Naomi in the back, surprisingly silent. Cas holds his cookies on his lap, refusing to give me even one.

“So…” I say to break the awkward silence. “Anything I should prepare for? You know, like, any weird family shit?”

“Hell,” they all say in unison, none of them clarifying in the least. I huff, taking a left turn at a stoplight as Cas directs.

“I meant more like _pervy uncle_ territory but okay.” I glance over at Cas but he doesn’t smile; not even a flicker of amusement.

“My brother is the least of your worries,” comes Naomi’s reply. “There isn’t even _just_ _one_ to avoid. You would be better off not showing up at all.” Both eyebrows shoot up as I glance at Cas. He just shrugs, agreeing with her.

“We make the Kardashians look like the Brady Bunch.” I roll my eyes at Gabe’s comment. They can’t be _that_ bad.

Boy, am I wrong.

 

The door swings inward, revealing a blonde woman with smooth hair and a perfect pantsuit. I don’t even have to ask—this is Naomi’s sister, Hester. She narrows her eyes on us before plastering on a fake smile and stepping aside to let us pass. “You finally made it! I was fearing you wouldn’t show up.”

Naomi steps up and hugs her sister. It’s stiff and uncomfortable to even watch so I lean in to whisper in Cas’s ear. “I dare you to mess up her hair.”

His head whips around and he glares, slapping my chest with the back of his hand as I laugh, reaching out to catch the cookies when they almost fall.

“She would poison my food.”

Another laugh bursts from me but his face stays serious. “Really?”

“If there’s one thing not to mess with, it’s her hair.”

I roll my eyes and take his hand in my free one, shifting the cookies to rest on my hip.

Once the fake, passive-aggressive pleasantries are over between the sisters, Hester turns to Cas and I. Now, I’ve actually met this woman before—a few times—but to think I can remember anything about her besides what Cas has told me? Yeah…I’ve got nothing.

“Castiel.” The edge in her voice could cut. “I see this…faze,” she gestures to our linked hands. “Has carried into your mid-twenties. Have you spoken to a therapist? Perhaps they could sort through your residual issues and get you back on a righteous path.” Did I mention she’s hard-core religious?

I open my mouth to speak but Cas cuts me off. “How nice it is to see you, too.” His smile is as fake as hers as he pulls me past her into the expansive entryway behind Gabe. Voices come from my left from what I assume is the living room and Cas heaves a heavy sigh before leading me through the halls and into the lion's den. Aunts, uncles, and cousins everywhere but I don’t see my old friends yet. My pounding heart settles a little but Cas is still strung tight beside me.

“Let’s get a drink,” I mumble and Cas nods with a sigh, steering me through the room and into the kitchen. I set the cookies on the counter and pull Cas into my arms. The room is empty so I take the opportunity to kiss him. Just a light kiss but he smiles when I pull away. “You gonna be okay?”

“It’s been years. I don’t know why…” I cup his cheeks when he stops and tilt his face up to look at me, my heart aching when his haunted eyes meet mine. “It shouldn’t bother me but…” A shrug as he visibly shakes it off and forces a smile. “You’re here—I’ll be okay.” My worry doesn’t ease, though, as he turns away and grabs two beers from the fridge, handing me one as he pops the cap off his. I do the same and take a swig, watching him carefully. He’s good—damn good—at hiding it, but I see the cracks in his armor. I see the hidden pain and more than that, I feel it. His pain is my pain.

“Hey,” I say, boosting myself up on the counter, pushing bowls and trays aside as I do. “I dare you to eat all the cookies with me.” I grin wickedly as Cas shakes his head, chuckling at the idea.

He steps between my knees, resting his hands on my thighs as he grins at me, his eyes crossing a little as they stare into mine. “Only if I get to blame you.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“It is now.”

I reach blindly for the bin, pulling it across the counter with my eyes glued to his. They just might be my favorite color—that specific shade of blue…

Internally patting myself on the back when I get the lid off one-handed without looking, I reach inside and grab two cookies, one for Cas and one for me, and hold his up to his lips. His tongue darts out as his eyes cross on the cookie. I smirk, seeing how tempted he is.

“C’mon, you know you want it,” I say in a low rumble, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him in. His Adam’s apple bobs when I take a bite of mine. I can’t help the moan that falls from my lips because—holy fucking _shit_ —these are somehow even better than they were a few days ago. Cas’s fingers dig into my thighs and I smirk around the cookie. _So easy…_

Finally, he opens his mouth and takes a small bite, letting out his own moan of delight before he snatches the cookie from my hand with a glare and stuffs it inside. “Damn you, Dean Winchester.”

I throw my head back on a laugh and finish my own cookie before reaching for another. “So how does this whole family shindig go again?”

Cas does the same, grabbing two cookies this time instead of just one. “I guess this could be considered Christmas and Thanksgiving…we only get together once a year, if that, to avoid too much tension.” He shrugs, taking a moment to stuff his cookie in his mouth. I grab another, eating this one more slowly. God, it’s like sex in my mouth…wait, that’s just a blowjob. I shake the thought away. “They will wait for everyone to get here before the festivities really begin so, for the moment, they are becoming reacquainted with one another in the most passive-aggressive way imaginable.” He says it so matter-of-factly I can’t help but laugh.

“That bad, huh?”

Cas lets out a full body sigh. “Yes, they truly are worse than the Kardashians, as Gabe would say.”

“You don’t even know who the Kardashians are, do you?”

Cas grabs his beer from the counter, taking another pull before sighing again. “Not in the slightest.”

The sound that bursts from me makes Cas jump. I cover my mouth, fucking _giggling_ as my cheeks heat. What did he put in those cookies, again? I grab another.

Cas kisses my cheek out of nowhere, leaving a wet spot where his lips smack. “Then…we all sit around the rather ostentatious dining room table and before we eat…” Another cookie goes in his mouth before he finishes, his free hand sliding up under my shirt and tickling my ribs. “We must all go around the table…” another cookie in his mouth. I do the same, worried he’s going to finish them all without me, “and say one thing we are thankful for in the last year.” He washes down the cookies with his beer. “It is really just a glorified form of bragging but that is generally how my family functions.”

“Sounds like a shitty time all around, if you ask me,” I say, groping around inside the bin for another cookie. With a scowl, I pick up the box and my eyes widen when all that’s inside are tiny chocolate crumbs. “Shit!” Giggles burst out of me as warmth slowly starts flooding my chest. “Shit!” I show Cas the empty box and he, too, starts to giggle.

“Oops.” With his beer in hand, he helps me off the counter. The room spins a little—everything’s fuzzy around the edges—but I manage to keep my balance and finish my beer.

“You gonna introduce me to the vultures, or what?”

Cas tries to roll his eyes but doesn’t really get there, looking more like he’s having a seizure than anything. But he takes my hand, grabs another beer, and leads me back to the living room.

Immediately, I see what Cas is talking about. Hester and Naomi appear to be in some kind of standoff, both analyzing the other’s reaction to what they say and adjusting accordingly. A few more people have arrived since our escape into the kitchen, including some of Cas’s cousins. With a quick scan of the room, I notice Rachel—Cas’s only female cousin—Raphael, Zach, and Uri. No sign of Michael or Lucas anywhere. It’s almost a relief, not seeing them. Maybe they won’t show—

“I’m home!” I groan and Cas shifts subtly closer when Lucas walks into the room, a gorgeous blonde following close behind with a look on her face like she knows something the rest of us don’t. Cas pulls me to the back of the room, into a corner away from everyone as Hester squeals and she wraps her arms around him, asking a million questions that he brushes off without answering. The commotion dies down and no one really pays us much attention.

 

“Do you really think Luna is allergic to us?” I ask, studying the colors on the label of Cas’s empty beer bottle.

“It’s possible,” Cas says, leaning heavily into my side with his head on my shoulder. “How else might one explain the excessive sneezing?” He buries his nose in my neck and inhales. I giggle, flinching away from his tickling nose while wrapping an arm around his waist. “It must be an allergy because you smell delicious.”

“That makes zero sense,” I chuckle, running my fingers along the softness of his shirt. So soft, I could wrap myself up in him and take a nap.

“Perhaps she just loves you too much—she’s bursting with it.” He tilts his head to look up at me, his blue eyes, squinting and bloodshot. “Oh, wait…” he frowns. “That is quite possibly a description of my own feelings.” He thinks hard on it for a minute as I chuckle before shrugging.

“Hey, Cas.”

He hums in question.

“I dare you to steal the mashed potatoes.”

His eyes widen and he laughs—giddy, uncontrolled laughter—before pulling my ear to his lips. “Only if you steal the creamed corn.”

I jerk my head away, pinching my mouth in distaste. “Creamed corn? Seriously?”

“The stuffing is still in the oven.”

“So steal the turkey!” I shout a little too loud, drawing the attention of Cas’s relatives. “Awesome,” I whisper, forcing a smile as my cheeks flame. Cas just snickers as everyone turns back to their conversations.

“So…the mashed potatoes?” I grin as Cas hands me his half-full beer and wanders off, skirting the outside of the room and sneaking out of sight. My phone beeps a few minutes later and I set down the empty bottle to pull it out.

_Meet me in the backyard._

I spin on my heel to make a beeline for the door and come face to face with the last person I want to see.

“Dean-o! Where you off to?” Lucas throws an arm around my shoulders, having to stretch a little to make up for the height difference.

“Outside,” I say, trying to shake him off but getting nowhere. Seriously, _what_ did Cas put in those damn cookies?

“We haven’t caught up yet! I’m sure Zach and Castiel are having a nice chat, so what do you say you and me shoot the shit for a bit?”

I groan internally, hating the cruel glint in his eyes as he leads my suddenly heavy-limbed body towards the couch.

“So I hear you’re officially batting for the other team? Never thought I’d see the day you turned into a fairy.”

I grip his wrist, flinging it off my shoulders as I glare at him. “Better watch your mouth,” I growl low in my throat, narrowing my eyes as anger bubbles in my chest.

“Oh! Oh, did that offend you? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. You know, since you’ve been straight all your life and all.” He grins maliciously. “Oh, wait…there was that time in high school…” My jaw locks tight as my face flames. “You thought I didn’t know? Yeah, see, I knew everything. Right down to the dirty details.”

“Listen here, you sorry son-of-a-bitch—” I grab his collar, jerking him close as every hair on my body stands on end. Anger rolls off me in waves with every word out of his mouth.

“Woah, woah, woah!” He holds his hands up in surrender. “What’s past is past, man!”

I stare him down, knowing I could break his face without much effort, before shoving him away.

“Bet Cas still likes panties, though,” he whispers. I sit there, shocked to my core. He _what?_ _I don’t remember that!_ My hesitation gives Lucas time to flee, jumping up from the couch and running to his mom, leaving me shaken and confused.

_What the fuck?_

But the gears in my head are already turning. Women’s underwear? Really? I hop up from the couch and head for the back door, finding Cas cornered by Zach with a bowl of mashed potatoes in his arms.

“Get the fuck outta here before I kick your ass.” Miraculously, he doesn’t argue, disappearing inside with only an annoyed grunt. “You good?” Cas looks a little shaken but otherwise unharmed.

He nods, holding up the potatoes with a small smile.

I grin, taking the spoon and shoveling them into my mouth, suddenly _so_ very, very hungry. Lucas’s words nag at my mind, though, and finally, curiosity gets the best of me.

“Hey, Cas?” I don’t turn to look at him, feeling my face flame, but surprisingly, it’s not from embarrassment. “Did you…um—did you ever wear women’s underwear? Like, for me?” Heat pools low in my stomach just picturing it. God, never thought I’d be into _that_ particular kink but, dammit, if the idea of Cas in silky panties doesn’t make me hard as a fucking rock…

Cas chokes on his mouthful of potatoes, covering his lips to hold them in as he coughs. I pat his back as his face flushes crimson and he won’t look at me—Jesus fucking Christ…my jeans have never felt so confining.

“Umm…once? Not on purpose or anything…”

“Not on purpose?” I grin. “Oh, I’ve gotta hear this.”

He huffs, refusing to look at me and, instead, taking great interest in the perfectly manicured lawn. “I had forgotten that you would be coming over.”

“And, what? Started jerking off in ‘em?” It was meant as a joke but the way Cas’s shoulders sag gives him away. A startled laugh escapes and Cas grumbles irritably. “Holy shit, dude, you’ll have to show me sometime.”

“No. No way.” He shakes his head furiously, setting the bowl aside.

“Aw, come on, Cas! Please? For me?” He finally turns his eyes on me, searching my face for something. My dick aches in my jeans, begging him to say yes.

“Really? You really want me to do it?”

“Well, yeah! But only if you’re up for it,” I quickly add, not wanting to back him into a corner.

“Okay,” he whispers, so low I almost don’t hear.

“Yes!” I fist pump the air, my smile splitting my face as Cas scowls, swatting at my side.

“On one condition,” he adds, leaning in to whisper it in my ear.

I groan. “Really? Do I have to?”

“If you want me in panties…” Cas shrugs, a smug smile turning up his lips. He’s completely relaxed now, leaning heavily against my side, his eyelids half closed, partially covering his bloodshot eyes.

“Fine,” I grumble, knowing I’m going to regret it.

 

“Shit, shit, _shit!_ ” I duck behind Cas, glancing over his shoulder at the brunette across the room, drinking wine and chatting with a short, nervous-looking man.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas glances around, not seeing anything to warrant my reaction.

“That woman—over there by the piano—who is she?” I point before ducking behind Cas when she glances our way.

“My aunt Amara? She’s my father’s sister.” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind but this isn’t a joke. No, this is the most grandiose fuckup I’ve ever made.

“Shit!” I hiss, leading him out of the room to a spot where I can peek inside at her without being noticed. I turn back to Cas, his bewildered face turning concerned—worried even. I grip his shoulders and meet his eyes head on. “Okay, don’t be mad.”

“That is not the best way to ensure I don’t get upset.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

“Okay, I might’ve…maybe—uh, slept with your aunt.” I cringe once the words are out in the open and watch as Cas’s face closes off, unreadable in the wake of this information. “But only once and I was drunk and it was so long ago I barely even recognized her so please don’t be mad and know that I love you, and only you, and that’s it but there’s a small possibility that I told her I’d call and I never did so she might be a _little_ upset but please don’t be mad at me because I—technically—didn’t even know you when I did it and I’m so _so_ sorry—” Cas cuts me off, his deep, rolling laughter transforming his normally passive expression and letting out the light that’s normally kept locked inside. For a moment I’m too stunned to react, soaking in his happiness. He doubles over with it, resting his hands on his knees for several seconds.

He wipes tears from his eyes and wraps his arms around my neck, kissing my red cheeks. “You slept with my aunt?” His beaming face pulls a hesitant nod from me. “Oh, you poor soul.”

“Dean? Dean Winchester, is that you?” I groan, not turning to acknowledge her voice and just hoping she’ll go away. No dice.

“Just remember—you did this to yourself,” Cas says, sliding his arms away and turning to face Amara. “How are you, Aunty Amara? If you will both excuse me, I have others to greet.” Then Cas is gone and Amara pounces.

“I see you’ve met my nephew? Rather friendly with each other, aren’t you?” The sway of her hips used to be distracting—it’s what drew me to her in the first place—but I barely notice it now. Somehow, she’s lost all her appeal where she used to be irresistible. I smirk to hide my nerves, glancing over her head to search for Cas, finding him on the other side of the room chatting with a man I don’t recognize and looking extremely uncomfortable. _Ha! Serves him right._

“Yeah, people tend to be _friendly_ with their boyfriends.” Her head shoots back as her eyebrows hit her hairline and a satisfied smirk curves my lips.

“Is that so? You seemed quite…” She steps forward, reaching out and running her fingers over my chest in a last-ditch attempt at seduction. It turns my stomach. “Straight,” she whispers, pressing herself against me and looking up at me through her lashes. I glance back to where Cas is as I push her away. He’s looking at me, begging me with his eyes to save him.

“Yeah…I don’t really stick to one team…excuse me,” I say, pushing past her and stalking across the room to Cas, ignoring Amara’s protests.

I watch as Cas visibly deflates when I reach him, smiling softly through the tension radiating off of him. “Dean,” he says, his voice tight, and I frown, worry growing by the second.

“Hey, babe, what’s going on?”

“This, uh…I want you to meet someone.” He gives me a tight smile that doesn’t in any way reach his eyes. He gestures to the small man in front of us and I take in his greying brown hair and light blue eyes. He’s relatively unassuming but for whatever reason, Cas can hardly stand to be next to him. My hackles rise. “This is my father, Chuck.”

Every muscle in my body tenses and I grit my teeth, glaring at the man who abandoned Cas without a backward glance. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you but I’d be lying.” I snap, watching his expression transform to one of embarrassment and confusion.

“Dean!” I ignore Cas, staring down the bastard in front of me.

“I-I don’t seem t-to, uh—follow,” he stutters, squinting up at me. I roll my eyes, opening my mouth to let him have it, but I’m dragged away by the hand on my arm.

“What are you doing?” Cas snaps, pulling me around to face him. “You can’t just attack everyone in here!”

“He _left_ you, Cas! He’s not just anyone and he didn’t just do any ol’ shitty thing. He _left_ you. I won’t apologize for not being able to pretend he didn’t.” I stare hard into his eyes, not breaking my gaze even as he glares back. Eventually, he nods, his expression changing to one of sad acceptance and he looks down at his hands before pulling me into his arms.

“Thank you,” he whispers, burying his face in my neck for a few seconds before pulling away. “Thank you, but if you can manage it, could we keep this civil?” I growl in frustration and he cups my face in his hands, his eyes imploring. “For me? Please?”

I scowl but relent. “Fine, but if he so much as—”

“He won’t.”

I purse my lips before kissing him quickly and pulling away.

“Besides, it’s time for dinner,” he grins, leading me into the dining room and to our seats at the ridiculous table.

 

“I’m thankful for my sons, whose accomplishments surpass all others’,” Hester says holding her glass high as she beams. I roll my eyes, nudging Cas's knee with my own. His lips twitch but he doesn’t look over at me. The table is so large and so long that I can’t see anyone on our side beyond Cas. Not that I care; I’m too damn hungry to worry about who’s stuffing their face on the same side of the table as me.

“I’m thankful for my new promotion! This cities District Attorney never looked so good!” Lucas says, getting laughs from anyone who cares. He sits back down and his wife, Lilith, stands.

“I’m thankful for my wonderful husband and our future child!” The hand on her flat belly rubs in circles as Lucas smirks and Hester shrieks, throwing her arms around her husband, Bartholomew, before jumping to her feet and kissing her sons face.

I lean into Cas. “Jesus Christ, is there no end to the good news?”

Cas snorts, drawing attention from around the table. Mostly glares but I do catch Gabe’s smirk.

I tune out the drone of voices one-upping each other until it’s my turn. I jump when Cas nudges me in the ribs. “Oh, uh…I guess I’m thankful to be here…for you,” I say specifically to Cas, grinning when color rises in his cheeks.

“Castiel?” Naomi says, urging him on.

“Well…I’ll have to say I’m thankful for Dean.” He nods once as snickers erupt from the other end of the table. I watch as Cas’s shoulders hunch inward and I tense, clenching my jaw; about to snap at whoever dared to make fun of him, but Cas rests his hand on my knee, shaking his head with pleading eyes. I scowl but comply.

Then, the food is brought out and we dig in. Though, curiously, no one seems to be able to locate the mashed potatoes.

 

“Castiel! Did you not make cookies this year?” Hester asks with a hint of accusation in her voice. Both Cas and I glance at each other, our eyes widening at the reminder of the box of cookies we shared earlier as we idly pick at the chips…and cookies…and cakes…and pies—oh God, the _pies_ —on the table.

“Well, uh, yes. I did, yes. They should be on the counter. Red lid.” He nods once, his cheeks flaming as Hester reenters the kitchen, coming back with the empty container.

“This one?”

Cas nods.

“It’s empty,” she says, stating the obvious.

“Someone must have eaten them.” I roll my eyes as Gabe slinks up beside us with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Did you put that ingredient in that I gave you?” Cas nods, leaning against the wall with his plate piled high. Hester huffs and rushes back into the kitchen.

“They were damn good, too,” I smirk, shoveling more pie into my mouth. Gabe’s eyes widen and he grabs my cheeks, staring into my eyes—I swat his hands away. “What the hell are you doing?”

He moves away, doing the same to Cas. “Did you…did you finish those? By yourselves?” We smirk at each other, remembering how delicious they were. “Oh, crap. Well, there goes my ride home.” He tosses his arms out to his sides. “Good thing I decided not to drink.”

“Uh, what?”

“They were _weed_ cookies, you idiots!” He hisses, rolling his eyes before covering his face with both hands. “They’re the only cookie everyone eats! I thought I’d mellow everyone out so we could have a good time for once!” Cas and I glance at each other, staring wide-eyed for a moment before bursting into raucous laughter. Gabe growls, grabbing us both by the sleeve and dragging us to the couch in the living room. “Sit.” We do. “Stay.” We do, leaning into each other with our plates in hand, our heads resting against each other.

“Did you try the strudel?”

I snort. “ _Strudel_.”

Cas jerks against me, biting into his strudel. “But, Dean, did you try it?”

“No, give me some.” Cas holds it between his fingers, pressing it to my lips. I open, purposefully bringing it further into my mouth than necessary. Cas’s eyes droop, darkening with lust as I lick gently. I pull away, chewing slowly with a moan as my eyes fall shut and I rest my head back on the couch before swallowing. Rolling my head to the side and opening my eyes, I meet Cas’s pretty blue ones. “Delicious,” I whisper. Cas shakes his head, grinning.

“You are something entirely new to me, Dean Winchester.” His fingers graze my jaw, drawing me in as heat spreads through my whole body before settling low in my stomach. “And I love you.”

I lean into his touch, my lips grazing his as my eyes close. The room is empty besides us, everyone having moved into the other, far larger, family room. I set our plates on the table in front of us before turning into Cas, running my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer as the kiss deepens, changing into something hotter—more desperate.

Cas’s other hand runs up under my shirt, stroking the hot skin over my ribs before pulling me closer. Every part of me thrums with weighed down energy, both lethargic and riled up. I slide a leg over his, tugging on his hair and pulling a moan from him. I don’t want to pull away, but I do, resting my forehead against his, breathing hard.

“I dare you to do that in front of my aunt,” Cas says and I chuckle, pulling away and reclaiming my plate.

“We should’ve brought a bag,” I say, and Cas tilts his head to the side, squinting at me in question. “You know, for the snacks.” His head falls back on a laugh and I can’t help but do the same.

 

I step into the family room and sigh in relief at having _finally_ found it. Who the hell needs a house this big anyway?

I grumble while scanning the area for Cas but don’t see him. God, where the hell is he?

Finally, I spot him across the room with his back to me. I smirk, sneaking up behind him where he’s talking to a woman I don't know. A mischievous thrill runs through me as I wrap my arms around his waist and whisper in his ear. “I dare you to let me suck you off in the hall closet.”

Cas jerks away, his wide eyes trained on me. His mouth opens but words don’t come out and his lips purse as he sticks his hand out.

“Jimmy Novak. I’m going to assume you’re Dean?” Well isn’t this just typical. Okay, just open up, floor! I reach for his hand as my face flames, tilting my head and studying his face as my fascination matches my embarrassment.

“You…”

“Castiel’s twin, Jimmy.” He smiles but there’s no warmth; nothing like Cas’s. It’s disorienting, seeing Cas’s face on someone else without the recognition or affection.

I swallow hard, mortified, and cringe. Fuck me, why is this my life? “I, um…fuck, I’m sorry.” I cover my face with both hands, scrubbing my burning cheeks. “Cas never told me he had a twin.” I can’t deal with this…this…whatever; not with the stupid cookies fogging my brain.

“Yeah…well, we aren’t overly close.” I’m so stoned I only just catch the sadness in his eyes.

“Hmm…it was nice to meet you, then,” I say as his wife joins us with a toddler on her hip. I smile in greeting but turn away without an introduction, hurrying off to find Cas. I can’t get away fast enough. I find him in the corner, sipping on a beer by himself. He smiles when he sees me, the warmth that was missing from Jimmy’s face shining brightly on his. I walk right up to him, dropping my head to his chest on a groan.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asks, his fingers sifting through my hair.

I pull away, eyes wide and face burning. “Jimmy’s your twin?” I snap, but Cas only smirks, more than a little pleased with himself.

“How did you discover that?” His hands rest on my hips and I cover my eyes in shame, leaning into him.

“Dared him to let me give him a blowjob in the hall closet,” I murmur, feeling Cas’s shoulder’s jerk with laughter.

“Yes, I can see how that might be embarrassing, though I’d have absolutely been up for it.” Cas’s hands squeeze my sides.

“Cas,” I whine, burying my face deeper into his neck; hiding from the world. He wraps his arms around my waist and I let him comfort me, feeling sorry for myself.

“Let me get you a drink,” Cas offers and I smile, moving out of his arms and letting him take care of me. “I’ll be right back.”

I lean against the wall, watching his ass as he walks away. I lick my lips, feeling weighed down in the best way. God, why is he so _pretty?_

“Mind if I stand here?” My head snaps to the side and I glare at the man beside me. Chuck glances up at me, smiling weakly. “I know you don’t like me.”

“Really? What gave it away?” I snap, crossing my arms and staring straight ahead.

He sighs. “I have my reasons for leaving, you know. They might not be good enough for you, but…”

“You couldn’t give me a reason good enough to warrant leaving your family, but, please, do enlighten me,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every word.

He sighs, stroking his beard with one hand while glancing around at all the people, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Funny, how he’s choosing to be here. “Being married to that woman—”

“Let me stop you right there,” I say, holding up a finger. “You took one but left the rest? What kind of father does that?”

“I never claimed to be perfect—”

“God, you’re so far from perfect it’s not even funny,” I snort. “You don’t even realize what you did to him, do you?”

“He turned out fine,” he grumbles, folding his arms over his chest defensively. “He’s got you, he has his brothers and sister…his mother…”

“What about in high school? Huh? What about when his mom was a raging alcoholic? When he didn’t even know his brother? His _twin._ When I was _hellbent_ on ruining everything good in his life? What about back then when he tried to _kill_ himself? Did you know about that? You didn’t, did you, because you’re a shitty father and an even shittier person.” I throw my hands in the air as he shrinks away.

“You don’t—“

“No! No, _you_ don’t! He had _no one_ and that was _your_ fault!” My face burns for a different reason as rage bubbles up in my chest. “How can you even show your face here? This isn’t even _your_ family! You gave them up, remember? So don’t you _dare_ try to tell me you have your reasons because you didn’t know Cas back then, and maybe if you had, he wouldn’t have had to deal with the pain of being abandoned by literally _everyone!_ ”

My chest heaves as I throw my arms out to my sides, seething mad and too drunk to care. He flinches every time my arms flail but he doesn’t leave. “I never thought of that,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.

“Fucking right you didn’t think!” I snarl. “You just—I can’t—how could you just—”

“Dean!” I close my eyes, shame bleeding through the anger. Damn it. “What are you doing?” He hisses in my ear.

“He started it,” I grumble, crossing my arms as Chuck excuses himself. “Was I just supposed to let him give me bullshit excuses on why he left you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring up at me instead with an unreadable expression. He tilts his head, squinting his eyes as he steps closer. “I appreciate you standing up for me—really, I do—but here?”

“It’s the only place I’ll get the chance,” I pout, stepping into his arms. “I just…I hate him.”

“And I love you,” comes the mumbled reply.

 

_CASTIEL_

I want to go home. To _Dean’s_ home more accurately, but Gabe isn’t ready to leave yet, so we sit in the living room. Dean leans his head against mine, which rests on his shoulder, as ready to leave as I am.

I’m actually incredibly surprised with how uneventful tonight has been, all things considered. It’s been…nice. Having Dean here to shield me from the onslaught of abuse has only made it more bearable, and, so far, I’ve been ignored by my cousins which is always the best-case-scenario.

Of course, nothing ever ends well in this family.

Jimmy left hours ago, needing to put Claire to bed, and aunt Amara said something about a date but we all know she’s going home to her cats. Chuck is still here somewhere; probably off with uncle Bart in his study.

That’s when Lucas plops down on the couch beside me, throwing an arm over the back cushion. “So, which one of you takes it in the ass? Wait! No, let me guess—it’s Castiel, isn’t it? He’s always been the more girly one.” Before Dean can respond like I know he wants to, Michael speaks and Dean’s muscles lock up.

“Must we really talk about their sins, brother?” He sneers, looking at me with distaste before taking a sip of his bourbon. His so-called ‘man’s drink’. Dean lifts his head from mine, glaring at Michael as Gabe walks in.

“You know, Mikey, if you took the stick out of your ass, a dick up there might not be so bad,” Gabe says and snickers, winking at me while he sips his water.

“How can you speak of such filth? The Lord will condemn you for your words. I should only hope you find it in yourself to repent before the final judgment.”

Gabe rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond.

Dean shifts suddenly, pulling me closer to his side and farther from Lucas. He shrugs, “Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.”

“And I should take this advice from you because you once walked the righteous path?” The contempt in his voice is thick but it doesn’t stop Dean’s snort.

“Well, from what Gabe has told me, you strayed from this so-called ‘righteous path’ for a bit in college, didn’t you, Michael? Anything for the badge, am I right?” He raises an eyebrow and Michael grits his teeth, saying nothing for a moment before his expression changes into something controlled and calculating. It turns my stomach just to watch.

“I heard about a flower shop that was broken into a while back. That wouldn’t happen to be yours, would it, Castiel?” His eyes stay locked on Dean’s as he speaks before finally turning to me, piercing in their hate. I don’t confirm or deny. “I heard they have the man in custody but are struggling to lay concrete charges; something about lack of evidence…” He trails off, a smirk tilting his lips as ice trickles down my spine. I open my mouth to speak just as Mom enters the room, looking flustered and angry.

“We’re leaving—grab your things.” Then she turns on her heel and heads for the door. I leap to my feet, more than happy to follow behind her with Dean close on my heels. He veers off to grab my cookie container before meeting us in the foyer and grabbing his jacket.

“Is everything all right?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer, waving me off just like she has always done. I let it go, too fuzzy in my head to force the issue. We stumble out the door to Dean’s car, listening to him threaten Gabe with castration if his baby gets so much as even a scratch.

I shove him into the back seat and buckle up before tucking myself against his side to absorb his heat as I shiver. Winters in Kansas are never overly cold but tonight is the exception. I hardly register the car moving as Gabe pulls out of the driveway, and I lean my head closer to Dean with a smile on my lips, having already forgotten Michael’s words.

“Do you think colors have feelings?” I ask, looking up at Dean for a serious answer to my serious question. He frowns, thinking hard before nodding.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“What is the color for happiness?” He contemplates this for a moment, staring straight ahead as his eyebrows furrow and he purses his lips.

Very suddenly, he turns his eyes on me, staring into my eyes with so much intensity my breath catches in my lungs. “Blue,” he says simply. “The color for happiness is blue.”

He taps the corner of my eye. Kisses it once. Twice.


	23. Watch Your Back, Novak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYY! Here's another chapter!
> 
> Not sure exactly how many there will be but I'm aiming for 30...ish. So, yeah, you can ignore the estimated number for now but we'll see.
> 
> Shout out to bethlehamcrane who beta'd this chapter! You're awesome.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what y'all think (what's working/what's not) Or just literally any thoughts you have!

**November 25, 2010**

CASTIEL

“Oh—oh crap…sh—” I sigh, gathering my scattered books and stuffing them in my bag. I push my glasses back up on my nose when they slip down and stand, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. No one is paying any attention but I feel the eyes on me anyway. Hurrying through the halls, I keep my head down as I make my way to the parking lot. _I just need to make it outside._

            A hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch, jerking away and backing against a row of lockers; the fear so deeply ingrained in me, grabbing me by the throat and squeezing tight.

            “Woah! Just me,” Balthazar says, holding his hands up at his sides. I blink rapidly, pulling my glasses off and shoving them in my pocket on instinct.

            “Sorry,” I whisper, looking anywhere but at him. I move away from the lockers, continuing down the hall.

            “That’s what I’m talking about, you know?” Balthazar says, following behind me as I do my very best to ignore him. “Why can’t you just accept the fact that someone like… _him_ ,” he says instead of Dean’s name, “will never seriously be with someone like _you?_ ”

            I stop, swinging around to glare at him. “Someone like me?” I tilt my head and narrow my eyes further before spinning back around and carrying on, quickening my pace. I try—I really, _really_ try—not to let his words bother me, but…

            “You know that’s not—come on, Castiel! He’s straight! Straight guys don’t like gay guys; that’s kind of how it works.”

I roll my eyes but his words sting. He is right, of course, but Dean is waiting for me and I don’t have time to listen to his ridiculous—though factual—argument.

            “I don’t have time for this,” I mumble, almost to the doors. Dean parks at the back of the lot to avoid door-dings and such, and my heart sinks when I see the rain—there’s no way he’ll let me on his leather seats. My shoulders sag and I sigh, wishing I had remembered my rain jacket—it’s going to be a long walk home.

            Balthazar grabs my shoulder again, spinning me around to face him. I’m too tired to fight it so I stare at him impatiently, just waiting for the lecture. My foot taps restlessly on the floor and I fold my arms over my chest. “Look, I can take you to homecoming if you don’t want to go alone. I don’t mind, really, but please don’t go by yourself hoping that maybe Dean might glance your way. It’s not going to happen and we both know it, so let me be there for you.”

            I bite my tongue, holding back all the horrible things I want to hurl at him because, after everything, he is still my friend and I don’t really have enough of those to be throwing any away. I drop my chin and purse my lips. “No, thank you,” I say, then spin on my heel and push through the doors, feeling the horridness of the day encroach on me as I step into the rain. It’s coming down so hard it’s almost impossible to see but when my eyes adjust, I see the sleek black car pulled up right outside the door, its engine running and its driver waving for me to hurry. I can’t hold back my grin—though I try—as I run for the door.

            Despite the short distance, I’m dripping wet when the door closes behind me and Dean’s lip curls as he hands me a towel. “Try to get the seat dry, too.” I think maybe he’s mad but then he takes my hand and holds it out of sight, only risking it because of the heavy sheets of rain obscuring the view into the car. I bite my lip to disguise my grin—maybe the rain isn’t so bad. Then the engine rumbles and we’re off. I catch a glimpse of Balthazar as we pull away and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looked almost jealous. Huh, must be the rain.

 

**_December 31, 2018_ **

_CASTIEL_

            I close my eyes tight, taking a deep, calming breath through my nose while holding the binder tighter against my chest. _It’s just Dean!_ I sigh and force myself to knock before I can talk myself out of it.

            Dean looks up from his laptop, smiling when he sees me. I let my eyes travel over his long legs encased in sweatpants and stretched out on the bed in front of him, his hair a mess on top of his head and his eyes drooping from the pills he takes. They’ll wear off soon, but for now, he looks wonderfully sleepy.

            The smile falls from his face, presumably when he notices my nerves. “What’s wrong?” I just shake my head.

            “Nothing—it’s nothing. I—um…I have something for you.” I hold out the binder and he takes it, a crease forming between his brows as he flips it open. My heart skips when his eyes widen and I sit on the edge of the bed, about ready to crawl out of my skin.

            “Is this…?”

            “Yes…my mother brought my things from her house. They’re all stored in my apartment for now—until I can get them unpacked, that is.” I swallow audibly, afraid he won’t like it as much as he did when he read it the first time—he’s older and more well-read than he was back then. What if he thinks it’s childish and poorly written? Of course, he would never say so and I honestly don’t know what I fear more—the truth or the carefully constructed lie to spare my feelings.

            He doesn’t speak for what seems like forever, flipping through the pages at random and shifting around to get comfortable. “Do you mind if I uh…” He points to the pages, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

            “Oh! Oh, yes, of course! Would you like some coffee?” I shoot to my feet, my hands twitching at my sides as I shuffle—anxious to do something other than wait around.

            “That’d be great.”

I nod, pivoting on my heel and hurrying off to the kitchen as my heart pounds wildly in my chest. I grab a mug from the cupboard while taking deep, calming breaths. This should not be so stressful—this is Dean! The Dean that—even in his formative years, when bullying me was his greatest joy—loved my story.

            I fill the mug with shaky hands, leaving it black just how Dean likes it, and head back to the bedroom, doing my best to breathe evenly, though I still hold the mug in both hands to avoid spillage.

            For a moment, I just watch him from the hall. He really is so beautiful, with one knee bent, he rests his elbow on top with the binder laid out on the other leg, which stretches out in front of him. His chin rests on his fist—he’s like a statue, sculpted by Donatello or Michelangelo or whoever—so perfect yet so broken; his mind fractured, but I suppose that’s how his beauty shines through—there’s so much beauty in imperfection and my heart swells with all the love I feel for him. I’m suddenly so very calm; my hands don’t shake and my palms don’t sweat—I know it’s only temporary but I’ll take what I can get.

I step inside, smiling shyly and setting the mug down as he grins up at me. I stop for a moment, wanting to say something but not having the words, so I duck my chin and start to move away, but his hand reaches out; wraps around the nape of my neck and pulls me down to him.

            My heart pounds in my chest for a whole different reason when our lips meet, coming together with so much love that my heart clenches. It doesn’t last long before he lets me go but I understand the meaning behind it all the same. _Thank you for trusting me,_ he says.

            _With my life_ , is my reply.

 

            _How long does it take to read a manuscript?_

I sigh, lowering myself to the floor and leaning back against the counter exactly—I check my phone—four hours and thirty-six minutes after leaving Dean with it. Since then I have scrubbed the kitchen—my pants are slightly wet from the not-quite-dry floor—and reorganized every shelf, closet, and drawer outside of the bedroom. Now, I wait.

            Luna slinks over and curls up on my lap, purring as I scratch idly behind her ears, sipping on my sixth beer. Maybe he’s done and avoiding me? Maybe it’s so boring he’s having trouble finishing? Maybe he’s—

            “Are you day drinking?” My head snaps up and I meet Dean’s pretty green eyes.

            “It’s new year’s eve, I can do what I want.” I grin and he rolls his eyes, setting the binder on the island and my eyes immediately latch onto it. My grin falls away, replaced by a worried frown. “Well?”

            He pulls out a stool, sitting with his back to the counter and his hands gripping the edge, eyes trained on me. The smile is gone from his face, replaced by an unreadable expression. My heart sinks and I brace myself for the words I know are coming.

            “Cas…this?” He grabs the binder, holding it in front of him as I hold my breath. “This is insanely good. I, honestly, don’t know why you haven’t published it.” The air whooshes from my lungs as my shoulders sag.

            “Truly? You really think so?” The beginnings of hope spark in my chest.

            His eyebrows shoot into his hairline as he sits up. “Hell yeah!” He exclaims with a disbelieving laugh. “You really don’t know that?”

            I look into my bottle and shrug before tipping my head back and letting the cold liquid pour down my throat. “I tried to get it published. I was told it’s, and I quote, ‘unreadable, glorified toilet paper.’” I laugh bitterly, a weight settling in my stomach from the reminder of that horrible day.

            “Yeah, okay, but that was just _one guy_ ,” Dean gets off the stool and sits down next to me, our shoulders and legs pressed together as he hands me my manuscript and kisses my temple. “And before you even think it—I’m not just saying it to spare your feelings.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him and I go willingly, letting my head fall into his lap instead of on his shoulder as he lazily runs his fingers through my hair. “You’re insanely talented in so many ways, Castiel Novak, and I wish you’d believe me.”

            I smile as my eyes fall shut—he knows me so well. I don’t argue, though, letting his warmth comfort me. Rolling onto my back, my head still in his lap, I look up into his eyes. My fingers wander along his chest, dancing upward until they rest on his stubbled jaw, stroking lightly while he leans his head into my palm. “What are our plans for tonight.”

            “Hmm…Sam’s dragging us out with him and Gabe to some club. Gabe’s got a buddy to get us in and I’m making Jo and Charlie come, too.” I roll my eyes—Gabe and his _buddies_. I jerk when a rumbling sounds in my ear, startled by the noise, before a laugh bursts from me.

            “Hungry?” I ask through chuckles. Dean just grins, flicking my nose before helping me to my feet. “Should we cook, then?”

            He looks at me for a moment, clearly debating something, before turning to the fridge, opening the door, and examining the contents. He hums, scratching his chin before bending to reach the back, drawing my eyes to the very fine rear presented to me. A moan rumbles in my chest and I can’t help but reach out and finger the elastic band above the curve of his ass. He jerks, his head hitting the shelf as he straightens.

            “Fuck—shit…Cas!” But he laughs, rubbing the back of his head as I blush and shrug.

            “Sorry,” I mumble, but he knows I’m not really—he did it to himself after all. With an eye roll, he hands me a plate with two chicken breasts covered in plastic wrap.

            Then he looks at me with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. “I need to bend over again—do you think you can control yourself?”

I roll my eyes on a laugh, bending sideways to check out his ass before standing straight and slowly shaking my head, smirking the entire time.

He huffs, “Then take yourself and your chicken over to the island and start slicing it up.”

            I do, grabbing a knife and a cutting board on the way. “What are we making?” I ask, setting the chicken out before washing my hands at the sink. Dean has bent over again, head in the fridge, searching deep in the crispers when I turn, his ass right up in the air. I walk over silently as he answers.

            “I was thinking chicken fajitas—fuck!” He shouts when my hand lands on his ass with a loud _crack_. He shoots up, his hand rubbing his backside as he turns to face me, a wicked gleam in his eyes. I stare back with wide, innocent eyes but the smirk on my lips gives me away. “You’re going to pay for that.” Then he’s on me, dragging me to the floor as I yelp, and pinning me to the cool tiles. I struggle but he’s strong—every part of him weighs me down—and I get nowhere with my squirming. He stares me down, his nose brushing mine, but doesn’t do anything more than watch me, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

            I give up my fight, feeling heat build and pool in my stomach, spreading outward with every moment that passes. I see it build in Dean, too. Feel it in the swelling inside his sweats, but still, he doesn’t move. Then, before I can react, he kisses my neck, just below the pulsing vein, and stands, dragging me to my feet. “That’s it? That’s the so-called _payback?_ ”

            “Never said you’d pay _now_ , did I?” He tosses an onion and two bell peppers on the island before glancing back at me through narrowed eyes. “Watch your back, Novak.” He turns, grabbing a cutting board and a knife of his own before washing his hands and setting himself up beside me, slicing expertly.

            I regain my station, picking up my own knife and slicing the chicken into strips. I’m on edge, though, waiting for the moment he decides to take his revenge, but as the minutes pass, he still doesn’t do anything, making idle conversation and pretending that nothing is amiss. I begin to relax and forget about his payback.

 

            Dean throws his head back on a laugh as he splashes some oil into a pan and turns the stove on. “Seriously? We did that?”

            I nod, my cheeks aching from grinning so hard. “Twice, actually. I think everyone in the house was aware. Not beforehand, of course, but…well—the floors are as thin as the walls, apparently.” I shrug, though a subtle blush colors my cheeks.

            “I don’t even want to think about, not only my brother, but Bobby, Ellen, _and_ Jo hearing us have sex. I can’t—it’s just…” He laughs again, his own cheeks coloring as his head tips back. “From what you’ve told me about, well… _me_ , I wouldn’t’ve thought I’d have brought you there.”

            I sigh, coating the chicken in seasoning just as Dean showed me as everything I thought Dean was, and everything I told him he was, runs through my head. Now that we’re here, in the place we’re in with the knowledge we have—though not entirely whole yet—I know what I told him of himself was highly incorrect. Dean was not simply callous and unfeeling—he didn’t just use me and leave me—he cared more than he knew how to express. He loved me—I know he did—he just couldn’t admit it to me...or to himself, even. But it was there in every way he protected me, even minutely. It was in every sideways glance and subtle smile, and every second I spend with him now reveals more of the person he truly was, eradicating the one I forced him to be in my mind—the one who cared nothing for my well-being, the one who always walked out, and the one who left me alone.

            “I was wrong, you know. About you,” I murmur, finishing up with the spices and handing the bowl to Dean for him to toss in the pan. He doesn’t take it at first, meeting my eyes with a half-frown. “You loved me—it's just that neither of us knew it at the time.”

Dean nods, unsure of himself as he takes the bowl and turns away, not saying anything for a while after that.

            The aroma of the spices and chicken cooking fill the kitchen and Dean's stomach rumbles more intensely. He groans, “I should’ve been a chef, I swear.”

I laugh, shooting him a quick grin. He putters around behind me for a while, doing whatever it is he does that I don’t understand while I perform the tasks assigned to me.

            I turn back to my chopping for the moment, being tasked with dicing tomatoes and lettuce. “Does it matter what size—”

I gasp as two large hands land on my ass, smacking hard before moving up my back and around to my chest.

Soft words whisper in my ear. “Watch your back, Novak.” Then they’re gone and I spin around, only to be attacked again by a cloud of flour. I swat at the air and cough, trying to clear my vision but Dean’s hands land on my cheeks before moving into my hair, spreading flour everywhere and coating me in the white powder.

            All I can do is stand there, frozen to the spot in shock, my mouth hanging open and my arms limp at my sides. Dean laughs, his whole body shaking with it as he continues to shower me in flour. I look down at myself, a crooked grin curving my lips as I shake my head on a laugh. I look up at him through my lashes, catching his delighted face, smeared with flour. “Now we need to shower.”

            “We? No, no, just _you_. All I need is a damp towel—” I lunge, pinning him to the fridge with my body as my hands land on his cheeks and my lips on his, forceful and crushing as flour gets all over him wherever we touch. His hands land on my hips, pulling and pushing at the same time as he dives into the kiss, tearing at my shirt as our hearts pound together. I can feel it leaping at him and I can’t help but smile as warmth floods me, pooling in my groin and spreading outward.

Dean’s hips jerk, bucking into mine when I trail kisses along his jaw to his neck, nipping and suck my way to that sensitive spot behind his ear, leaving a wet trail before swiping at it with my tongue and sucking hard, pulling a gasp from him. His hands move to my hair as his knees buckle. I hold him up just by the press of our bodies, taking his hips in my hands and grinding hard.

            “Oh—Jesus fuck!” He cries out with the right amount of friction in just the right place. “Shower…shower,” he pants, pressing at my chest frantically, getting me to move.

            “The food?” I breathe, pulling at the hem of his shirt, not allowing him to protest as I pull it over his head and move down his chest, taking one nipple into my mouth and sucking hard before dragging my teeth over the peak. Dean yelps and shudders, momentarily forgetting his urgency for the shower as his hands tighten in my hair, sending waves of pleasure through me.

            “It’s—it’s off, shit, Cas!” Then we’re moving. Dean propels me backward, out of the kitchen and down the hall to his room, stumbling and kissing and laughing the entire way. My floury shirt is pulled off and tossed away as we trip into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind us.

            My back hits the door and my breath whooshes from my lungs as Dean takes over, his teeth latching onto my bottom lip. I groan, grinding into him as he pulls my sweats down, shoving my boxers with them and taking me in his hands. My knees buckle and it’s a good thing Dean’s chest is pressed against mine or I would be writhing on the floor. “Dean—please! Please just…just fuck me?” A strangled whine escapes me when his hand moves, stroking along my cock in hard pulls that have my knees shaking and my heart pounding in my chest.

            He ignores me, sucking hard on my neck in a way I’m sure will leave a mark and grabbing at my ass cheek with his spare hand, dragging me closer. I grip his shoulders with both hands, my head thrown back against the door, my mouth hanging wide as breathy whimpers escape me with every pump of his fist.

            Then his hands are gone and I’m being guided into the shower as he takes off his own sweats and turns the water on hot.

He’s following not long after, pressing me against the wall and closing the shower door as I try desperately to catch my breath. The hot water sluices over us, plastering my hair to my forehead and rinsing my body of flour.

            Dean grinds our crotches together, the friction boosting the tension higher and higher until I can’t take it, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge and driving me wild. “Please, _please_ , Dean!”

He sighs against my throat, nipping one more time before pulling away and spinning me around, pinning me against the wall again. With my cheek pressed against the smooth tile, I close my eyes, preparing for the onslaught of pleasure Dean has planned.

            My ass cheeks are spread and Dean slips a lubed up finger inside, stretching me open before adding another and scissoring them, opening me up wider as waves of pleasurable pain crash over me. I have no idea where he got the lube but I don’t really care, as long as he doesn’t stop.

            He gets three fingers in before my knees start to shake and dip, threatening to give out as he sucks little bruises along my jawline. Whimper after whimper falls from my lips with every skilled brush of his fingers over my prostate.

            He pulls out suddenly and I sag from the loss before the blunt head of his cock presses against the tight ring of muscle at my entrance. I whine as he pushes in, the pleasure-pain almost too much as fire blazes through me, consuming me with every inch. Dean’s panting in my ear, gripping my hips as he moves, thrusting slowly in and out, in and out, in and out.

            “Feel good, Cas? You love my cock inside you, don’t you? I make you feel so good…” He trails off with a hard thrust, punching a moan from my lungs as I scramble to find purchase on the cold tile wall. My hands slip and slide, every breath coming in harsh pants as Dean rolls his hips, hitting that spot inside me over and over and over, winding me tighter and tighter as the water cascades over us.

            “Oh God, it’s so good! P-please…go _harder!_ ” And he does—oh, he _does_ —pounding into me mercilessly as every nerve ending in my body sings. Dean’s hand buries itself in the hair at the back of my head, pulling hard enough to sting as he clamps his teeth down on my shoulder. His other hand grips my cock, jerking in time with his thrusts in a punishing rhythm that has me tipping the edge, coming with a shout as Dean spills his load inside me, growling viciously into my shoulder. My come coats the wall and Dean’s fingers, my hips jerking sporadically with every shift of his hand until I’m too sensitive to take it.

            My knees finally give out and we sink to the floor, Dean’s arms wrapped around me as I lean back into him, sated and limp in his arms.

            “Hmm…” he hums in my ear, kissing his bite mark before trailing little pecks up my neck and across my jaw as far as he can reach. I close my eyes, savoring his attention as he washes us both off before pulling me up and out of the shower.

            My stomach rumbles loud enough for Dean to hear as he wraps me up in a towel, pulling me into his chest to give me a kiss. He laughs, “I guess I’d better feed you, then.”

 

DEAN

            I wolf-whistle long and low when Cas walks out of the bathroom dressed in a snazzy red dress shirt, complete with dark jeans that hug his ass and thighs in the best way.

            “Maybe we should just stay home,” I mutter and Cas, of course, doesn’t get it, tilting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes.

            “What would we do that for?” I can almost see the gears turning in his mind as I pull on my socks. “Is it the shirt? I could pick another shirt,” he says, looking down at himself and running his hands over the button-up that fits him just right. “I know red is a little vibrant but it _is_ new year’s eve—”

            “It’s not the shirt!” I chuckle, shaking my head at myself because it most definitely _is_ the shirt. _And those jeans..._ “Okay, fine, it’s the shirt. But, not in the way you're thinking!” I rush to clarify when his face falls.

            “Oh…oh!” He whispers, eyes widening as he finally gets it. I shake my head and stand.

            “You are something else,” I murmur, dropping a kiss on his cheekbone and ruffling his still damp hair before leaving the room, smoothing out my own button down.

He grumbles behind me, probably trying to smooth out the mess I made on the top of his head. I smirk—that won’t last long if I have anything to do with it. “Cab’ll be here in a few. You got your phone? ...Cas?” I turn when he doesn’t answer and find that he’s not even behind me. Huffing, I march back down the hall, finding him in the bathroom gelling—actually _gelling!_ —his hair. “Hey, stop that!” I scold, swatting at his hands and, once again, mussing up his hair.

            He sighs, acquiescing. “I was trying to make it look _nice_ for once,” he pouts—actually pouts! Bottom lip stuck out and all.

            “It always looks nice! We’re going to be late—do you have your phone? Wallet?” Cas smiles softly at me before nodding and patting his pockets to reassure me.

            A car horn honks from outside and I immediately snag his hand in mine, tugging him down the hall and setting his shoes at his feet before grabbing my own and pulling them on.

            “I can get my own shoes, you know.”

            “Can’t risk you disappearing to fix your hair.” I straighten up, seeing that pout again and cup his cheeks, kissing his bottom lip softly. “You look awesome. You _always_ look awesome.” The cabby honks again and I roll my eyes, grabbing both our jackets as we head out the door.

 

            “Please tell me you’re not too gay for body shots off of porn stars?” Gabe’s pleading eyes flick between Cas and me, his hands pressed together in a prayer-like pose—which is ridiculous in itself, considering what he’s asking of us.

            “Uh…” Cas turns his wide eyes on me. “I’m going to forgo this particular activity,” he says, forcing an apologetic smile.

            “ _Porn stars_ , Cas. Did you not hear me? _Porn stars!_ ”

            “Yes, _female_ porn stars. Should I remind you of how _gay I am?_ Did it somehow elude you that Dean is my _boyfriend?_ ” I laugh, taking the shot Sam hands me on his way by before I turn to face Gabe's pout again.

            “Nu-uh, big guy—boyfriend, remember?” I nod in Cas direction and tip my head back, pouring the burning liquid down my throat.

            “Yeah, but you’re not gay! Just one? Out of her bellybutton?” I lean against the wall as the club music blares and strobe lights flash, watching Gabe with narrowed eyes.

            “I’m gay enough,” I snap, taking a sip of my beer and leaning into Cas.

            “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t still enjoy a woman just as much as—”

            “I’m gonna stop you right there.” All the humor is gone from my tone, and Gabe shrinks back a little as he gets the message, before spinning around and going in search of Sam.

            “A bit harsh, no?” Cas hooks a finger in one of my belt loops, pulling me in and pressing his lips to my neck, his pre-drinking this afternoon and the couple of beers he had with dinner making him looser—more affectionate.

            “Maybe a bit.” My head falls to the side, giving him room to do as he pleases. He takes full advantage, nipping at the sensitive skin before soothing it with soft kisses. From his seat on the high stool, he’s only just shorter than he is when standing, and he fits just as perfectly against my side when I wrap an arm around his back, my fingers toying with the shirt just above his hip bone. “But did you really want me taking body shots off anyone but you?” I’m met with a smirk when I glance at him, giving one of my own in return.

            “Hmm…I like that idea.”

            “Body shots?”

            “Mhm,” he hums, a dopey grin turning up his lips.

            I open my mouth to speak but Sam suddenly appears beside me holding two beers. He hands one to me before dragging Cas away and onto the dance floor. Oh, boy, my baby brother can dance—and Cas…well…Cas tries _really_ hard. 

            I take Cas’ stool at the table as Jo joins me, watching Cas, Sam, and Charlie move to the pounding beat as I sip my first beer, putting the second one aside for now.

            Jo sighs, cringing a little as her blonde hair sways around her shoulders. “Cas really…I mean, his dancing—”

            “Sucks,” I finish for her on a laugh. “You can say it; we both know.”

            “Yeah, I’d hope so, but you never know,” she shrugs, bumping my shoulder with hers. I wrap my arm around her and pull her into a side hug.

            “How’ve you been?” I ask, realizing how long it’s been since we talked. A twinge of guilt settles in my chest from being so consumed in myself and Cas that I haven’t bothered to check on her at all, but she just smiles at me, letting me know it’s fine.

            “Charlie’s driving me nuts with wedding plans.” She rolls her eyes. “Do we both wear dresses? Do either of us wear dresses? Inside? Outside? Color scheme, invites, caterers, and so on and so on and so on and I’m just about ready to strangle her!” I chuckle at her expense as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “At least we have a date.” She chugs her beer, finishing it off and wiping the foam from her lip.

            “And a place,” I point out, raising an eyebrow. She nods, sighing heavily and slumping back in her chair.

            “It really isn’t so bad but, with everything going on at work, plus this thing with Crowley…” I force a half smile and she lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I just feel like we’re already losing. Like somehow they're going to know what we’ve got on them and have a defense prepared before we can even come at ‘em.”

            “So, what, you think you’ve got a rat?” My eyebrows shoot into my hairline.

            “Honestly…yeah.” A head shake and fingers tapping incessantly are the only signs of her worry. “He’s gotten away so many damn times and I just…this time he can’t. He just _can’t_. Crowley’s a slippery bastard and he’s vengeful, so if he gets out—” Suddenly, a flash of red catches my eye as it falls in my lap.

            “Woah!” I catch the woman just before she nosedives my crotch and prop her up. She sways on her feet, her overly elaborate dress making her look almost comically out of place. “You good?”

            “Oh, deary me! I believe I must've had just a nip too much to drink.” Her thick Scottish accent slurs, making her far harder to understand than she would be under normal circumstances.

            “Um… do you want me to call you a cab?”

            “Oh, yes, dear, that would be lovely.” I look to Jo and she shoos me off, promising to save the stool.

            “Bring me back a beer," she calls after me and I throw up my hand to let her know I heard. The woman stumbles along beside me as I lead her to the door, occasionally grabbing my arm to steady herself but otherwise keeping her hands at a safe distance.

            I call a cab when we get to the door and wait with her until it arrives. She doesn’t speak, not even the drunken mumbling of some people, and her silence makes me a little uncomfortable.

            “I didn’t catch your name,” I say, purely to fill the silence.

            “That’s because I didn’t give it.” She doesn’t look at me as she speaks and I nod awkwardly.

            “Okay…well, I’m Dean.” I don’t know why I tell her; it’s not like I’ll ever see her again.

            Something shifts in her expression, changing from slightly bored to more interested, but she doesn’t say anything—it’s unnerving. Then the cab pulls up to the curb and she climbs in. “Thank you for all your help, _Dean_.”

            I give her a tight smile as something in my gut turns. Something’s not right but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it could be.

            So, like an idiot, I shake it off, heading back inside and to our table after stopping at the bar for another round.

            Cas’s smile lights up his face when I approach and he immediately pulls me into his side. My heart skips a beat, warmth flooding my chest from just that smile.

“Was wonderin’ where you ran off to,” he mumbles into my neck.

I grin, handing him a shot as I take one of my own. We clink them together, our eyes meeting above the glasses and holding steady, the warmth in them seeping into me and making me feel light as air. We tip our heads back, downing the shot in one quick gulp.

 

            Two Cas’s stand in front of me, both grinning, both happy. I don’t complain, reaching out both arms to catch them but only managing to snag on. That’s okay, too. This Cas kisses me and I’m not sure if it’s the original Cas or the second one but I guess that doesn’t really matter, either. This Cas kisses just as good—if a little more sloppily.

            I keep my eyes open, searching for the other Cas behind this one, but he’s gone so I wrap my arms around him and kiss him harder, deeper and more passionately because…well—because I love him.

            He makes the lights brighter and the music louder and my heart so much fuller. Okay, so maybe those first two are the alcohol talking, but Cas definitely takes the third—no question.

I sway against him, trying—and failing—to dance to the music blasting over the speakers, but no one really knows how to dance when they’re drunk so does it really matter? Does anything in the world matter when I have Cas? That one’s easy.

            He nibbles on my bottom lip and I laugh for no reason at all, feeling light as air and wonderfully loopy. His hands slip under my shirt and it feels so nice…I push my fingers through his hair and whisper words with no meaning in his ear, smiling when he starts to laugh. He knows what I mean; that’s the best part of him.

            Suddenly, the music cuts out and the lights intensify as the countdown begins.

            “TEN!” I grin at Cas and he grins back.

            “NINE!” Sam catches my eye from across the room.

            “EIGHT!” I grin at him, too.

            “SEVEN!” Jo winks at me.

            “SIX!” Charlie sticks out her tongue.

            “FIVE!” Gabe steps away from the porn stars.

            “FOUR!” He takes Sam’s hand.

            “THREE!” I look back at Cas, meeting his crystalline blue eyes. The color of happiness.

            “TWO!” God, I love him.

            “ONE!” I tell him just that.

            “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” His lips are on mine or mine are on his and we’re kissing and nothing has ever felt better than this new year, at this moment.

            I grin against his lips as confetti rains down on us. This year will change everything—I feel it in every part of me.


	24. How Do You Love Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Here's the next chapter! Thanks again to bethlehemcrane for betaing this for me! Feedback is much appreciated and much encouraged! Hope you love it!

**_December 10, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

Every part of me wants to think I failed that final. It doesn’t help that I know I probably did. I knew from the moment I saw the first question that I was completely screwed. A rock settles in my stomach as I walk away from the classroom, praying that it didn’t go as bad as I think it did but knowing I’m not that lucky. Half the questions on the test were about things I didn’t even know we talked about, so bullshitting my way through seemed like the only viable option. It was almost impossible, but I think I managed well enough—at least, I hope I did.

I shake those thoughts from my head and continue on down the hall, bypassing my locker in my hurry to get to my car. Cas should be waiting for me—he doesn’t know the surprise I have planned for us, but he will soon enough and I just know he’ll love it. I can almost picture his delighted grin in my mind and just that is enough to calm my rolling stomach.

The smile that splits my face when I get to the door is entirely uncalled for, and my heart rate kicks up a notch because there’s Cas, though he's all nervous and shifty, standing a few feet from the Impala and glancing around every few seconds to make sure no one notices him. It would be cute if it weren’t heartbreaking—he’s always wary of the very real threat other students pose to him. Other students like _me_.

Lengthening my stride, I hurry across the parking lot towards him, tucking my chin into my jacket as a cold breeze chills my exposed skin. With all the nervous scanning he’s doing, it’s a wonder he doesn’t notice me until I’m there. I unlock the door, grab his arm, and spin him around before nudging him to the passenger’s side door. A startled sound leaves him but that's all the protest he gives before he recognizes me and complies, getting in the car and doing up his seatbelt before folding up his mittened hands in his lap, resolutely looking down at his shoes.

For a moment I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s wrong with him. “What’s up?” As soon as the question’s out of my mouth, I remember the final we just took. My passing grade affects him just as much—if not more—than it affects me.

He fidgets in his seat, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket and readjusting his scarf while refusing to look my way. “How do you think you did?”

I open my mouth to tell him the sad truth but I suddenly can’t get the words out when he turns those big, hope-filled blue eyes on me. Every emotion he feels is laid bare for me to see and I just can’t bring myself to tell him. Not yet.

So I force a smile and hope to God it looks genuine. “Good, I think.” When his shoulders sag and a smile lights up his face, I know I said the right thing.

We pull out of the parking lot and I head in the direction of the animal shelter. I haven’t gotten a chance to take Cas yet, but I know he’s been wanting to go. Never asking but always getting this… this _light_ in his eyes whenever I mention the place. He doesn’t ask where we’re going now, either, trusting me to take him wherever I want.

When we turn the corner, I see Cas start wiggling in his seat from the corner of my eye. His grin only widens as I fight against my own.

“Dean, are we…”

“Mhm,” I hum, the corners of my mouth turning up. I almost expect him to start bouncing in his seat in the same way Sammy used to, but he doesn’t, instead, curling into himself on the seat. I’d almost think he’s upset if it weren’t for the Cheshire Cat grin on his face.

After parking and leading Cas inside, I set him up with the cats and start my work, sweeping and mopping the floors, feeding the animals, and taking the dogs out one-by-one to the back pen, all while keeping an eye on Cas—particularly on the grin that doesn’t leave his face for the entire two hours it takes me to do the work.

I don’t have the words to describe the feeling in my chest when I look at him. It’s something between pure adoration and _dread_. I know what happens if I fail—we both do—but the repercussions span further than either of us can control. The football team—my friends and Cas’s _family_ —will put him through _hell_. I can’t stop them; they’ll say they’re doing it for me, getting revenge on my behalf, but I know they’re not. Their torture is for purely selfish reasons.

But looking at Cas now…it’s almost impossible to believe he had ever been sad—or that he ever _could_ be sad—because the unrestrained joy on his face is just so…I don’t even know. It’s just beautiful, and heartwarming, and happiness inducing, and it makes me melt inside and…fuck…it’s all of that and more. So, _so_ much more.

When I get down the row of cats to the very last one where Cas is showing the orange tabby some love, I take a deep breath and broach the subject that’s been on my mind for weeks.

“So…homecoming is tonight. You going to the dance?” I don’t look at him as I speak but I can’t miss the way he stiffens next to me. I already know he’s not going to the game—there’ll probably be too many people there for him to be comfortable and he wouldn’t want to risk it. I get that, but I still had a hell of a time trying to mask my disappointment when he explained it to me.

“I…uh—I was planning on it, yes. Charlie will be attending and she begged me to go as well.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “Why do you ask?”

I sigh, setting aside the cat food for a moment to face him. “You know why I ask.”

He doesn’t face me, deciding instead to bury his face in the cat’s fur as he nods. The cat purrs loudly, rolling onto his back so Cas can pet his fluffy, caramel tummy.

“You know I won't be able to talk to you there, right?”

Again, a nod with his face hidden away.

“Hey…” I pull him around to face me, dipping my chin to meet his eyes when he refuses to look up. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” I haven’t got a clue how, but I’ll figure it out.

~*~*~*~

“Is that who I think it is?” I have to strain my ears to hear Zach over the blaring music but it’s not hard to figure out what he said when I look in the direction his eyes go. Cas stands against the back wall, arms folded across his chest as his eyes wander around the room while he waits for Charlie to finish her dance. I had to hold myself back when she walked away, wanting so badly to go stand next to him, but I can’t.

“Is that…Castiel? What the hell’s he doing here?” Raphael snorts, grinning wide enough to show all his teeth. “Never thought he’d be that stupid. He’s not your tutor anymore, right?”

All eyes turn on me and I shift uncomfortably, shaking my head.

“Good.” He takes a purposeful step in Cas’s direction and I panic, instinctively throwing up a hand to stop him. I swallow hard as he turns his glare on me, but I cut him off before he can voice his displeasure.

“I’ve...got something planned for later,” I say, forcing a smirk, but I feel sick. My stomach turns over and over but they just shrug, losing interest for the time being. I breathe a sigh of relief just as Lisa saunters over with that sly smile. I force another smirk as she grabs my tie, pulling me out further onto the dance floor. I don’t dare to look back at Cas.

 

_CASTIEL_

A lump rises in my throat as Lisa’s hands travel down Dean’s back and over his ass. He doesn’t make any move to stop her, either, and I have to look away. I knew this would happen. I keep reminding myself of that, but it does nothing to ease the sickening weight in my stomach or the tight grip on my lungs. I _knew_ this would happen.

Why did I even come? Charlie is probably off with that brunette girl she _insisted_ on dancing with, leaving me all alone to fend off the waves of panic that threaten to drown me. As if I’m not uncomfortable enough in my button down, slacks, and waistcoat, I also have to deal with the fact that I feel painfully unwelcome here.

I’ve already been here for a couple of hours, mostly sipping at my punch and standing in the corner being ignored by everyone. Not a single person has asked me to dance—not that I really expected anyone to—so I sip my punch and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does.

I’ll wait until Charlie gets back before leaving. There’s no point waiting around for Dean to acknowledge me; he has already informed me that he won’t.

Despite my best efforts, my eyes are once again drawn back to Dean. He really does look so handsome in his black slacks, white button-up with the sleeves rolled up and top few buttons undone with his tie loosened around his neck. Not to mention the rest of him…he’s just—perfect.

And it hurts.

My ribs suddenly feel too tight around my lungs, and I have to look away, taking deep breaths to fend off the panic attack. I’ll only stay until Charlie gets back. Yes, that’s what I'll do.

 

But Charlie doesn’t come back. Not for hours—or what feels like hours—and I just can’t take it anymore. Dean is gone and I’m having the opposite of a good time, even if the music isn’t that bad and the punch is good. The turning in my gut has reached new levels just thinking about where Dean and Lisa wandered off to. What they’re doing…

I divert that train of thought to the back of my mind and head for the door. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. A lump crawls up from my chest and into my throat as my eyes burn and the air gets too hot—too stuffy.

I burst through the double doors, gasping for air. My feet get caught up under me and I just _barely_ catch myself before landing flat on my face.

With my heart pounding in my chest—pulse thudding in my ears—I start across the parking lot, not hearing the light steps approaching from behind until something slips over my head and I’m lifted off my feet. I freeze for about half a second, too shocked to move.

It’s only when a hand closes around my mouth that I try to scream, kicking and thrashing as my heart lodges in my throat and I can’t breathe—whether from the hand over my mouth or from the panic, I don’t know, but it only makes me more frantic. I get in a solid kick, but it’s only enough to make my attacker grunt before shifting their hold to a more solid one, but the hand over my mouth stays, cutting off my muffled cries.

Suddenly, they stop and my stomach lurches. _Don’t throw up; you can’t throw up_. I swallow back the acidic taste of bile as I start to tremble. Then I’m being laid down and it’s far more gentle than I’d expect. My mind starts whirling, thinking maybe…maybe—

A door slams above me. No— _I’m in the trunk of a car._ I rip the bag off of my head but a sudden momentum propels me forward. I lay my head down and curl my knees up to my chest, trying to breathe through my tears—praying—but nothing happens. God seems to have a habit of ignoring my prayers.

I lose track of how long we drive, trying so very hard to calm myself down and suppress the terror pulsing through me that I don’t notice when the car stops and the trunk pops open. I’m suddenly hauled out and held tight to a very familiar chest and I lose it. The floodgates open and I beat on his chest as sob after sob bursts from me.

“H-how could y-you—you _do_ that to m-me?” All the while Dean holds me, letting me lash out while whispering soothing words and rocking us back and forth. I tremble in his arms, unable to calm down because I was just so _scared_. Terrified, actually, and the only way I manage to get myself under control even a little bit is by reminding myself that it was Dean. It’s _just_ Dean.

His chest rumbles against mine when he speaks and he pushes a hand through my hair, stroking softly. “They were gonna do something.” His voice is no louder than a whisper but his own fear is clear. “You’re not my tutor anymore so in their minds, you’re fair game.” A kiss to my temple and a shuddering breath. “I had to do something first while they watched so they wouldn’t get suspicious.”

I sniffle loudly, not really caring if it’s gross, and nod against his shoulder. Reluctantly, I pull my face out of the crook of his neck when he pushes me out, only to turn me around and pull my back to his chest, his arms wrapping around my shoulders as he rests his head against mine. I blink away any stray tears and my eyes widen at the view. We’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees, standing in front of a dark lake.

Normally, this would be terrifying, but I’m with _Dean_. The stars seem brighter even with the full moon and the water is so still, like glass. It’s actually quite breathtaking, and I feel a sense of calm pushing against the lingering terror.

Dean’s lips brush my ear and his whispered words tickle just a little. “Will you dance with me?”

I pull out of his arms, turning to face him to make sure I heard him correctly. “You want to…”

“Dance with you,” he finishes with a nod and a little grin. He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “So, will you?”

I nod slowly and he moves back to the Impala, turning on the headlights and the radio—scanning until he finds a song good enough to dance to. _Hallelujah_ starts playing through the speakers and Dean turns it up before taking slow steps towards me, a gentle smile on his lips as he holds out one hand, the other tucked loosely in his pocket.

My smile is shy as I look at him through my lashes and take his offered hand. My other moves to his shoulder while his curls around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. We sway to the soft crooning of Rufus Wainwright and suddenly every horrible thing in my life is inconsequential because of Dean.

My hand moves from his shoulder to wrap around his back, bringing us even closer as his head dips and his lips brush my ear, making me shiver. “You look awesome by the way.” Heat floods my cheeks but the grin that tugs at my lips can’t be helped.

“Thank you,” I whisper before returning the sentiment. “You also look wonderful.” His lips pressing against my temple is all the response I get as he brings me impossibly closer, my heart pounding against his chest with emotions I don't dare to name.

It’s terrifying and this isn’t the time for foolish declarations, no matter how true the feelings may be. Dean hums the tune into my ear, singing the words occasionally and I close my eyes, savoring the moment. He has a lovely voice and it lulls me into a false sense of security—like this can last, outreaching the bounds of this one night and stretching out into the rest of our lives. The logical part of me knows that it's never going to happen, no matter how badly I want it—but how can I even begin to think logically with such warm, strong arms around me?

“Does this make up for not dancing with you at homecoming?” He pulls away only far enough to look down at me with a smirk. So sure of himself, and he should be because it absolutely does.

“Yes.” I nod, biting my bottom lip. "I think it does."

“Good.” Then his fingers wind their way into my hair and he’s kissing me. Soft at first, then with more passion, his other hand pulling me in tighter as I melt against him, every part of me tingling with pleasure as my heart races and the song comes to an end.

He pulls away as a new song comes on, this one with a faster beat. I don’t recognize it but Dean seems to, bobbing his head and swaying his hips as he sings along. He takes both my hands and urges me to dance along. At first, I can’t get my body to move right, my face burning hot with embarrassment as I sway my hips awkwardly. But Dean looks so happy and he’s so into it that I can’t help but throw caution to the wind and let it all out, thrashing violently while he laughs, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

We dance like that for what feels like forever, holding hands and just moving together. Eventually, he pulls me close, his nose brushing mine as my heart races and our breaths puff out against each other’s faces. “You’re a terrible dancer,” he breathes.

“I know,” I reply. Then my feet leave the ground and his lips are on mine as the music plays loudly for only the two of us to hear. My back hits the cool metal of the Impala's hood and I shiver. The chill doesn’t last long, though, because I’m flooded with heat when Dean lays his body over mine.

Our clothes start to disappear, discarded as rough, yet gentle hands run over my skin and I’m utterly lost to this feeling—to him.

 

**_January 2, 2019_ **

_DEAN_

“Will you not tell me where we’re going?” Cas glances over at me from the passenger’s seat, one eyebrow raised as his hair ruffles in the wind coming through the open window. It’s an abnormally warm day for the beginning of January, even in Kansas, and the memory of this place doesn’t bring up any bad feelings, so yeah, we’re going to the lake.

“Nope,” I say with a grin, popping the ‘p’ at the end. Cas just rolls his eyes but the way they crinkle at the corners makes it impossible to believe he’s actually annoyed.

“Alright, can you at least let me peek in the basket, then?” He gestures to the picnic basket sitting between us, one hand reaching for the lid. I snag his hand before he can touch it, bringing his fingers to my lips for a kiss before setting it back in his lap.

“Patience!” I laugh, pulling the basket closer as I take a sharp left down a dirt road, the trees getting closer and closer as we drive—I don’t remember the road being this tight.

I wince with every low handing branch we pass under, my shoulders pulling up to my ears as I grip the steering wheel tighter. Cas doesn’t speak again, too busy rolling up his window to avoid getting whacked in the face by a stray branch.

I'm so relieved when the road finally opens up that I don’t register Cas’s question until I put the car in park.

“Dean? Is this…?”

“Yeah.” I smile and open my door, taking the basket with me as Cas gets out the other side. I meet him in the middle, taking his hand and stroking his knuckles with my thumb.

“You remember this?”

“I remember a lot of things,” I say, releasing him to spread out the blanket on the long grass. Cas doesn’t move, too shocked to do anything but stare. I glance up at him. “I told you I remembered this weeks ago.” He blinks a few times before shaking his head to clear it.

“Yes. Yes, I remember now.” With a smile, he takes a seat beside me, his tan overcoat pooling around him as he curls his legs up to one side.

“You hungry?” I ask, lifting the lid off the basket and digging around inside for the Tupperware with the sandwiches. Turkey club for me and PB&J for Cas—per his request when I asked his favorite sandwich last night.

“Yes, very.” I hand over his sandwich and revel in the grin that splits his face. “I get it now,” he says with a nod, pulling off the lid and taking one half. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I say around a bite of my own sandwich. We eat in silence until our sandwiches are gone. “You ready for tonight?” I ask, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows nervously.

“Yes.” He reaffirms this with a determined nod. “We need to get this started.” He reaches for my hand and I give it over easily, curling our fingers together.

Our first therapy session with Dr. Barnes is scheduled for tonight and I don’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, I’m fucking terrified. I don’t _do_ touchy-feely, chick-flick moments, let alone a whole hour of nothing but talking about my deepest, darkest childhood traumas, especially with anyone other than Dr. Barnes—but even that took several weeks and countless stern talks to get to that point.

On the other hand, part of me _wants_ to let Cas into all those dusty corners and dark places. Maybe he can let some light in? I want to get past the nightmares and the guilt and just _be_ with Cas. No demons chasing us around or skeletons in the closet. More than anything, that's what I want and that’s why I’m willing to try this.

“When are you planning to work in your shop again?” Cas looks down at our entwined fingers and licks his lips. I wait patiently, stretching my legs out in front of me and crossing my ankles.

“I was thinking next Monday.” My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“That’s awesome, Cas!” I grin painfully wide.

“And you? When do you presume you’ll go back to work?” He reaches over me to look through the basket and I don’t stop him this time, letting him pull out two bottles of water and both the containers of pie, handing me one of each.

“Depends on how tonight goes, I guess. If I can get a lower dose of those pills, I can go back to work. Can’t drive the trucks if I’m on the heavy duty shit.” I shrug, playing it off, but I miss my job. I miss the adrenaline rush from a call and physical demands that tire me out so much I don’t even get a chance to dream. Getting home after a twelve-hour shift and just crashing after a shower because I’m too exhausted to do anything else? Those are my favorite days.

Cas hums around his mouthful of pie, nodding thoughtfully before discarding his overcoat, leaving him in a fluffy sweater that’s nothing short of adorable. “Dean?”

I look up when he speaks, seeing his furrowed eyebrows and pinched mouth. He tilts his head when he looks at me. “Yeah, Cas?”

“Why did you choose to become a firefighter?” I’m taken aback for a moment and I set down my pie as my heart jolts.

“Well—uh, I wanted to help people?” I say, but it sounds more like a question. “And I look damn hot in the suit.” I give him a sly smirk and a wink but he’s not buying it.

“I’m serious.”

I nod and look at his fingers. His hands are so nice—strong yet soft. I pick one up and wrap my hand around his, feeling my calloused palm against his smooth one.

“My mom,” I say. I can’t look at him so I just keep my eyes on our hands. “Remember I told you she dies when I was little?”

He only nods, giving my hand a squeeze and waiting for me to continue.

“Well—um…there wad a fire in Sammy’s nursery—some electrical thing in the attic—and Dad grabbed Sam and I and ran, saying he’d go back for mom, but…she never had a chance.” A lump forms in my throat but I swallow it down. I _will not_ cry—I refuse. “I wanted a chance to save other peoples’ moms’ and...and I have. I’ve never lost anyone and I intend to keep it that way.” With that, I put an end to the conversation, giving his hand a squeeze and finishing my pie as Cas ponders my words.

When we’re both finished, Cas opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off by standing and motioning out towards the water. “Come on.” I reach a hand down to him and he hesitates before taking it and letting me pull him to his feet. I lead him to the edge of the lake and we look out over the water as the sun reflects off the ripples. It really is beautiful.

“How many other dates have you brought here?” Cas asks with a smile and I pull him closer, tucking him under my arm and kissing his temple as love swells inside me.

“Not a single one.”

 

_CASTIEL_

I almost don’t believe him, looking at him suspiciously from the corner of my eye. He laughs and I can’t help my smile.

“I’m serious!” He says through his laughter, pressing his lips to my temple in another lingering kiss. I turn into him, wanting his lips on mine more than anything. My hands slide over his shoulders as he pulls me closer by my waist. His lips are on mine before I take my next breath, sending shivers down my spine and waves of heat all through my body.

Dean pulls away and kicks off his shoes and socks before rolling up his pant legs. “What are you doing?” I ask, backing away the slightest bit to better observe him.

He stands up straight with a devious grin on his lips. “I dare you to jump in with me.” He steps closer and I step back, holding up both hands.

“I-I can’t swim.” He stops, a frown pulling his smirk down as he tilts his head. He watches me for a minute before his smile returns.

“Then I’ll just have to teach you.” That brings a little grin to my face because no one has ever offered to teach me to swim before. I guess he takes that as an okay and he grabs my hand, pulling me towards the edge. “Wait! Not now!”

“Why not?”

“It’s—it’s _cold!_ ” I tug against his hand with a withering glare. Is he crazy?

“How would you know? You haven’t felt it yet.” I huff, shaking my head and crossing my arms over my chest. There’s no way I’m getting in that water. “C’mon, don’t you trust me?”

He advances slowly and I retreat with every step, a grin slowly pulling up the corners of my lips. “Of course.”

“But not enough to jump in?”

“Absolutely not,” is my reply. It’s not true, of course. If I absolutely had to jump in, I would trust him to keep me from drowning.

“Do you love me?”

I raise an eyebrow and take another step back as he takes one forward. I nod in answer.

“How much do you love me?”

“More and more with every breath I take.”

“Really? I dare you to love me with _all_ your heart, then.” He thinks he is _so_ clever. It shows in the rise of an eyebrow and a slow step forward.

“Hmm,” I hum, taking another step back as my smile grows. “Easy—I already do.” I pause to look up at the canopy of dead leaves, still clinging to the branches.

“Oh, really? Only that much?” Widening eyes and another step forward.

“No, more than that.” A tilt of my head and another step back. Dead leaves crunch under my shoes.

“How much do you love me, then?” There’s a playful glint in his eye; something so rare but becoming more frequent with every passing day.

I grin, taking on a poetic voice as I speak, meeting his shining eyes the whole time. “I love you like the sun loves the moon, or the sea loves the shore, or Romeo loves Juliet—”

“Romeo and Juliet die, Cas.” He rolls his eyes with a bark of laughter.

“But they loved,” I retort, tilting my head and spreading my arms at my sides. “And you?” I ask as I take one more step backward. “How do you love me?” My back hits a tree and I stop, biting my bottom lip as I wait.

He stops too, looking down at his feet for a moment as he thinks. Then he stoops, picks something up from the ground, and holds it up for me to see. It’s a pebble—flat and smooth and only about half the size of his palm. “I love you like this.” With one more pointed look, he turns and hurls the rock into the middle of the lake, watching the ripples spread out from where it sinks as my jaw drops.

“I’m trying really hard not to be offended right now.” But it is so hard because—just… _what?_

Dean throws his head back on a laugh as I step away from the tree, walking to the edge of the water to look for the rock. Maybe this is just another joke I don’t understand—

Arms wrap around me, propelling us forward over the water. I don’t even have time to shout before I’m underwater, thrashing wildly as panic overcomes me and I start to sink.

Then my head is above water and Dean’s arms are wrapped around me as I cling to him, scrambling higher.

“Cas! Cas, just stand up!” The words are shouted through laughter and it’s enough to get me to listen. When I put my feet down, I find that the water only comes to about waist level.

A short, manic laugh bursts from me, and I feel so ridiculous. Dean pulls me closer, his clothes clinging to every inch of him. Then, his lips are on mine and my shivers turn from cold-induced to kiss-induced.

It doesn’t last long, though, before we're helping each other out of the water, dripping from head to toe. Dean’s lips are blue and he shivers just as hard as me as he peels my sweater off and lays it on the hood of the car before starting on my pants.

I let him do as he pleases and wrap my arms around myself, rubbing my hands up and down my arms to quell the shivers. When I’m finally naked, Dean picks up my jacket and wraps it around my shoulders before handing me the keys and nudging me towards the car. I go willingly, turning on the car and cranking the heat as I wait for him to pack up and join me.

By the time he opens the door and gets in, I’m sufficiently warm. Dean, however, still shivers violently as he wraps his arms around his naked body.

“I think my balls crawled back up inside me.”

I frown, tilting my head as I reach between his legs to feel that his balls are not, in fact, inside his body. "No, I believe they are still where they should be.”

Dean jumps so hard he hits his head off the ceiling before leveling me with a glare as he rubs his sore head.

“You’re lucky your hands aren’t cold anymore,” he snaps as I chuckle lightly, moving my hands over his shivering thighs in an attempt to warm him.

I move closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing kisses to the side of his neck, feeling his thundering pulse under his chilled skin. Moving up and over his jaw, I nip the skin there, reveling in the moan that falls from his lips. His hand falls to my hip as I move over him, straddling his thighs and sitting back on his lap.

With my hands on both sides of his jaw and one of his on my hip and the other in my hair, I kiss him breathless, soaking up the heat of his mouth while warming his body with mine.

I press my chest to his, wanting to be closer—so close I don’t know where I end and he begins—but it’s just not close enough. I grind against him as heat pools low in my stomach. He pulls away, though, and I growl, trying desperately to get his lips back on mine.

“Cas—” His hands grip my hips, holding me still. I make a small noise of complaint, my bottom lip sticking out in a pout. “Cas…as much as I want to—and I _do_ —little Dean just had the equivalent of an ice bath and is _definitely_ not gonna be onboard for a while.”

My pout deepens as I sag in his lap, but as I look down, I find myself in the same situation. “I—um, can we still kiss?”

He laughs and pulls my mouth to his in answer, kissing me hard and hot—stealing the breath from my lungs and giving it back all in the same moment. I can feel his smile against my lips and it sends all kinds of feelings racing through me. Joy, peace, excitement, but more than anything and greatest of all… _love_. God, I love every little thing about him—even the not so great parts, but those rough-around-the-edges parts make him who he is, and I love who he is.

“Why’re you smiling?” I hadn’t even noticed I was.

“Why are _you_ smiling?” I laugh, resting our foreheads together and pushing my fingers through his hair while looking down into his too-green eyes, the smattering of freckles standing out sharply against his pale skin.

“Hmm…I asked you first.” I raise an eyebrow at his smirk, nipping lightly at his bottom lip as my heart flutters.

“You smiled first,” I point out and he rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.

“‘Cause I love ya,” he whispers, returning the little love bites along my chin. “And you?”

“Because I love you more.”

That only gets me a sharp scrape of teeth along my jaw. I yelp but I can’t help the way I shiver in delight.

“Ugh, I really wish we had time..." Dean sighs, dropping his head to my chest before looking up at me through his lashes. “We have an appointment; an _important_ appointment.”

I pout but get off his lap, staying pressed to his side as he turns the car around and heads for home.

Not long after we get off the narrow road, I pull off my jacket and lay it across myself in such a way that it acts as a blanket and a pillow when I rest my head in Dean’s lap. I fall asleep within minutes, lulled by the low rumble of the Impala and the ever-present comfort that comes with Dean.


	25. Did Somebody Say Jello Shots?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly the shittiest week I've had in a long time. Here's another chapter. I hope you like it. Please tell me any thoughts you have (it'll definitely make this week not so shitty). 
> 
> I've written the next chapter so it shouldn't take too long before I post that one. Oh, and there's officially (probably) going to be a total of 33 chapters! That means EIGHT MORE! WHAAAAT? How did we get here already?
> 
> Also, more Sam chapters are coming for those of you who were wondering! Okay, please let me know what you think of this chapter!

**_December 11, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

With my phone held tight to my ear, I lower myself onto my bed, every muscle in my body strung tight as I listen to it ring. I know that I really shouldn’t be doing this, but…well, I miss him. He doesn’t really have a reason to come over since finals started, so I’ve already been seeing a lot less of him than I would like, but speaking on the phone is not something we do. I really don’t know how well he’ll take this, and if his refusal to acknowledge me in front of his friends is any indication of how this might go, I should hang up now. But I don’t.

 _Okay, this isn’t going to go well,_ I tell myself as my palms start to sweat and a weight settles in the pit of my stomach. I pull the phone away from my ear, my thumb hovering over the red end-call button when his voice comes over the line, gruff and annoyed.

“Yeah,” he snaps, clearly not happy at being disturbed. I glance at the clock on my nightstand—it’s noon; he shouldn’t still be asleep. I should just hang up—I’ve been quiet too long and he’s already not in a good mood. “Hello?”

“H-hi,” I choke, answering before I’ve fully decided on a course of action. My voice is unrecognizable even to myself and I clear my throat, trying not to sound nearly as nervous as I am. “S-sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“Cas?” His voice lifts, losing its sharp edge with the single syllable of his nickname for me. “No, no, don’t hang up. What’s up?”

I chew on my lip some more before answering. “I missed you,” I whisper, cringing as I wait for his reply.

He clears his throat, taking his time to respond, and it only heightens my anxiety. “Yeah… uh, me too,” he replies, his voice low and only marginally softer than normal. My body deflates, pushing out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and I sink deeper into my pillow with a smile. “Guess we really don’t have an excuse to hang out anymore, huh?”

“No, I guess not,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage.

“S’okay—we’ll figure something out.” His voice is so soft and reassuring, and I want to believe him so badly, but I don’t feel reassured. Not in the slightest.

“Will it?” I sit up, suddenly too restless to stay in one place. I know how this pans out and it’s not in my favor.

“What?” To his credit, he seems genuinely confused. I can understand why, too—when all is said and done, he’s not the one who’ll lose everything. Why would he think about me at all?

“Will it be okay? It’s never been _okay_ before—at least not for me—so will we really figure something out or will I go back to being a punching bag?” I get up from my bed, pacing around the small room as restless energy consumes me. I’m well aware that I shouldn’t be bringing this up—not now when things are going so well—but I need to know.

“Is that really what you think? Seriously? That we’d just go back to—” He cuts himself off on an angry growl and I stop in front of my desk to rub a hand down my face. He sighs heavily and pulls himself together. “I’ll figure it out, Cas. I don’t want you to have to worry about it. Just…just let me take care of this.”

My shoulders slump and I drop down into my chair, resting my elbow on the desk and propping my head up on my fist. My eyes run over the collection of red pens I keep in a neat little mug. I reach out and twist the cup around, feeling like I’ve touched a live wire and every part of me is filled with a sharp, almost painful, energy.

I sigh heavily, trying to shake off the jitters. I’m just so tired of everything—the worrying and the arguing and just…everything—and I want it to stop. For it all to just stop being so horrible. So I nod, though he can’t see me. “Okay,” I mutter, putting my faith in him to take care of me. I know it’ll probably come back to bite me, but at this point, I don’t care. All I want is peace.

“Good.” He sounds so weary, and guilt crawls up my throat. He has so much to deal with, from Sam, to football, to school, and he doesn’t need my issues piled on top. “Okay, I’ll call you later. We’ll think of something, ‘kay?”

“Yes, that sounds nice.” I hate this. I hate it so much.

 

**_January 3, 2019_ **

_DEAN_

“You were supposed to be here, like, yesterday. Where the hell are you?” I hang up after leaving the voicemail for Charlie. This is _her_ birthday party so what the hell? I look up and catch Cas’s eye. He smiles from his perch at the island, bringing his beer to his lips as I scowl at him, pouting maybe just a little. “Don’t laugh,” I whine, closing the distance between us and turning him around to face me. I stand between his spread legs, my hands on his hips and my forehead against his.

“But you’re just so _cute_.” So, yeah, that’s not his first beer.

“Hmm,” I hum, my fingers moving up to his chest and twisting into his sweater before I lean in, kissing him softly…slowly—taking my time and enjoy every taste—before pulling away with his bottom lip trapped between my teeth. “I’m not _cute_ ,” I growl, lifting and maneuvering him so that I’m on the stool while he sits on my lap, his legs on either side of me.

With my lips on his neck and his hands in my hair, I feel the rumble of his every word. “Right…you’re _adorable_.” He hisses when I clamp my teeth down on his sensitive skin, sucking a bruise before soothing it with soft licks. A moan rumbles from him, vibrating against my chest as I slip my hands under his sweater, running them over his hot skin.

My lips travel down to his collarbone, nipping and sucking the entire way as he starts to rock against me, breathy moans escaping his lungs. I move my hands higher, bringing his sweater up and moving my kisses lower, traveling across his chest and leaving a wet trail as I go.

My phone rings and I pull away from Cas with an unhappy growl, slapping my hand down on the countertop and my phone. “ _What?_ ” I seethe, too annoyed by the interruption to be civil.

“We’re almost there, Grumpy. Please make sure little Dean is put away when we walk through that door.” I growl again and hang up before tossing my phone on the counter. With a heavy sigh, I drop my face into Cas’s shoulder, pulling his sweater back down. God, couldn’t we have just _five_ minutes? Just five minutes. It wouldn’t be half as bad if Cas’s wasn’t pouting so severely, but he is and all I want to do is suck on that lip. Is that really too much to ask?

“Come on, up you go,” I sigh, scooting off the stool enough that Cas can sit back down. He grabs his beer and downs it before getting up for another. I follow him to do the same, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my chin on his shoulder as he grabs two from the top shelf. “D’you think we have enough time for me to—”

“Honey! I’m home!” I groan, stepping away from Cas and turning to face the entrance to the kitchen with the deadliest glare I can muster.

Cas leans in, his lips brushing my ear as he speaks. “Just wait until they leave; I have a surprise for you.” I groan for a whole new reason when his teeth latch onto my earlobe, nibbling lightly before letting go. He walks away, leaving me a sweating, trembling mess in the middle of the kitchen to go greet Charlie and Jo.

I crack open my beer and take a few deep breaths before heading for the living room, snagging a board game from the table on my way. Charlie barely even looks at me before her eyes hone in on my beer.

“One: this is _mine_ ,” I say, holding it away from her when her fingers inevitably reach out to grab the alcohol. “And _B_ : I didn’t get you a cake—”

“What?” Her smile drops and I roll my eyes, holding up my hand for her to wait.

“ _Because…_ I made jello shots.”

She whoops loudly, throwing her arms around my neck and squeezing me so I can barely breathe as she plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I glance at Jo, one eyebrow raised.

She shrugs. “She went a little hard on the pre-drinks.”

I smirk and nod towards where Cas sits on the floor with Luna in his lap as he tries to braid her fur. His lips pursed in concentration, brows furrowed and his nose wrinkled in frustration every time he loses his grip on the short strands. Jo laughs and detaches Charlie from me so I can go save my cat. Cas pouts when I pick her up and set her aside, but he doesn’t argue when I pull him to his feet. “How about some jello shots, hm?” He perks right up, pulling me toward the kitchen.

I pull the tray out of the fridge and stick a candle in every one. Twenty-seven—one for every year. When they’re lit, we sing and Cas sways violently from side to side as he belts out the lyrics. The only reason he doesn’t topple over is because of the tight grip he has on my arm. Good thing he’s so damn cute. Charlie blows out her candles before snatching up a shot, pulling out the candle and tossing it back.

Despite Cas’s earlier impatience, he doesn’t reach for one right away, instead, waiting for me to take mine before pulling me into a kiss and—I shit you not—stealing it right from my mouth.

“What the hell, Cas?” I laugh, stunned as he grins at me around a mouthful of cherry jello.

He half-shrugs as if to say _what can you do?_ “It tastes better this way.”

I just take another shot, making sure to swallow this one before he can get his lips on me again. I grab a few more before heading back into the living room, sitting on the floor with my back resting against the couch and Cas leaning into my side with his beer. Charlie and Jo sit themselves down on the other side and look through the games I laid out.

“What happened to Sam and Gabriel?" I look between Jo and Charlie when their heads snap up in unison and Cas tenses against my side.

“Didn’t Sam tell you?” I scowl at Jo because obviously, he hasn’t.

“They, uh, they’re not a _thing_ anymore.” Jo shrugs, setting the game they chose on the table and putting the others aside.

“What?” I snap, shocked at the news but even more shocked by the fact that this is the first I’m hearing of it. Why didn’t Sam tell me?

“Yeah, I guess he met someone else? Some chick named Eileen?” Jo shrugs again, setting up the game as she speaks.

“But they were fine on new year’s!” This just doesn’t make sense. Not at all.

“I think he met her the next day? Guess something went down between them after you two went home. Gabe left all pissy but Sam stayed.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” I look down at my hands—one twined with Cas’s while the other holds my beer. Does he not trust me? Think he can’t talk to me or something?

“I don’t think he’s had a chance, honestly. He went home with her and for all I know, he’s still there.”

She doesn’t say anything more on the issue as we start the game, and I don’t ask, but it weighs on my mind all the same.

 

By the time the fourth game is over, we’re all sufficiently buzzed. Cas leans heavily against my side, his head on my shoulder and hand in mine, where it’s been the entire time.

“When are you going back to work? Gotta make _something_ to pay for this place, don’t you?” Jo quirks an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes. “Doc says I’m clear physically.” I tap the side of my head. “Shrink put me on a lower dose of the sleeping pills, too, so I should be good to go. I’m gonna call Rufus tomorrow but I’m hoping I can get back to it sooner rather than later.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to have you back. I know Bobby’s been groaning about Turner’s attitude since you left—at the very least, you’ll make the old man happy.” Jo shrugs, taking her turn and laying down an eight of spades. I pause, looking through my cards for the best one. Cas—who gave up some time ago—points to one he thinks is good and I throw it down even though it’s a losing card—I don’t really care at this point in the night.

We play a few more rounds—I win some, Charlie wins more, and Jo just outright dominates most—before we get into Charlie and Jo’s business.

“Why don’t you look here? On this street, I mean. There are plenty of nice houses,” I say when Charlie brings up that they’re looking for a house.

“We did. Nothing’s for sale.” My bottom lip sticks out in a pout. It would’ve been fun to have them as neighbors.

“Why don’t ya just move in with Cas and we can take this place?”

I snort at Charlie’s suggestion. “Please, if Cas and I were gonna move in together, we'd live here and you could rent from Cas.” I roll my eyes but there’s a pang of longing in my chest. What if…what if Cas and I _did_ live together? I glance at Cas, deciding that, yes, I want that. Not in the future, either—I want that now. Today. _Yesterday_. He’s here all the time anyway, so why not? Renting out the apartment would be an extra bit of income and that way I can have him in my bed every night, guaranteed. Yeah, that’s definitely something we need to talk about when we’re both sober. I know a clear head won’t change my mind though—not on this.

We talk and laugh and I give Charlie her gift—a limited edition hardcover set of Lord Of The Rings—before they stand, stretching their arms over their heads, and head for the door. I leave Cas on the floor to follow them.

Charlie wraps her arms around me, squeezing me with more strength than I thought her little body was capable of. “Thanks for everything.”

“No problem. Happy birthday, kiddo.” Then they’re gone, hurrying down the driveway to the cab parked on the street.

I jump when two strong arms wrap around my waist before I even get the door closed. Cas’s lips find that sensitive spot behind my ear, sucking hard as I lean into him.” So…this surprise,” he whispers, moving away to close the blinds as I lock the door, anticipation bubbling up inside me.

He moves toward the kitchen, peeling off his sweater and tossing it aside. I quicken my pace as my heart jumps, my pulse thundering in my ears as heat floods me. God, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at him.

When I round the corner, he’s right there, mouthing the words to the song playing over the speakers. His finger hooks in my belt loop, pulling me along to the fridge before pressing my back up against it. He flattens himself against me, his eyelids drooping seductively as he runs his hands along my sides, waves of shivers following in their wake.

He backs away, pressing a hand to my chest to keep me in place while he goes. “So, you remember Christmas with my family, right?”

I tilt my head and frown. Where’s he going with this? “Vaguely.”

He grins. “Remember the request you made?”

I think hard but nothing comes to mind.

He rolls his eyes and boosts himself up on a stool, swaying a little because, let’s face it, no one’s particularly graceful when drunk. “I’ll just have to refresh your memory, then...”

With that, he snaps opens the button on his jeans and I clench my fists as a sliver of dark purple silk is revealed. He pinches the tab of the zipper between his finger and thumb, pulling it down incrementally and driving me wild with every passing second.

"Holy fuck, Cas,” I pant, flush with arousal and sweating through my clothes. This is…Jesus _Christ_. I swallow thickly, my mouth falling open on a moan when he spreads his legs invitingly and looks up at me through those thick, dark lashes.

His eyes are piercing; cutting right through me and hitting my core—blasting through all my defenses and knowing just what to do to make me want him—and, oh God, I _want_ him. So bad I ache.

He stands, then, straddling the stool and planting his feet on the bottom rungs. Then, he starts stripping and I’m a goner. Cas, pulling his jeans down inch by inch to reveal the lacy border hugging his hips will be the death of me—but what a way to _fucking go_.

“I know they’re not pink like you asked for, but,” he licks his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it. “Will these do?”

“Oh fuck, _absolutely_.” My hands itch to touch him—to feel the silky panties against his smooth skin—but I’m too busy soaking in the view.

The jeans make it just below the curve of his ass before he curls his finger at me, beckoning me closer. I advance on shaky legs, resting my hands over his where they hook into the top of his jeans. I don’t urge him on, instead leaning forward to kiss him breathless.

Our tongues tangle, tasting every inch of the other’s mouth and soaking in the pleasure we offer each other. Cas’s hands fall away, moving to the hem of my shirt and lifting it up over my head before tossing it aside and reclaiming my lips.

My hands grip the top of his jeans, pulling them down until they sit at his knees and he kicks them off, now completely bare except for those fucking panties. I pull him closer and wrap his legs around my waist, bringing my cock flush with his. We moan in unison as he grinds against me, rolling his hips to create the most delicious friction.

I slide my hands along his thighs to his ass cheeks, gripping them in my hands and lifting him just enough so he sits on the counter. My hand bumps against the empty jello shot tray and I pause as an idea forms in my head. With a small, secretive smirk, I pull away from Cas, leaving him flushed and panting.

“Wha…” His eyes are half-lidded and lust-blown—his lips, swollen and bruised—and he looks far too good not to take this opportunity.

“Lay back on the counter,” I say, turning away for only a moment to look through the fridge.

“W-why?” He stutters, and I can’t see him, but I’m almost positive he’s got an adorable little head-tilt going.

“Just do as I say; do it now.” My voice is a low growl and it gets the desired effect. Cas’s breath hitches and I hear the sounds of him shuffling around as I pull out the extra tray of lime flavored jello shots.

When I turn back around, Cas is on his back, legs hanging off one end of the counter, and his hard cock straining against the thin material of his panties. His head is turned toward me, eyes wide and curious and his mouth slightly ajar.

“Why…?” I shush him, setting the tray on one of the stools and picking one up. I turn it between my fingers a few times, examining it passively as I speak.

“New year’s eve,” I drawl, glancing up at him as I utter my next words. “Body shots.”

 

_CASTIEL_

Every ounce of blood inside me rushes to my groin as shivers race across my skin. I roll my head to the side, watching as he sets five shots on the counter before putting the rest away.

“Keep your hands above your head.” He gives me a pointed look and I can’t help but love the commanding rumble of his voice even as I itch to reach out and touch him. I clench my fists in my hair to keep them where they are.

He squeezes the jello from the first cup onto my stomach and I gasp when the cold substance hits my heated flesh. Dean presses a hand to my stomach, holding me down when my hips jerk. He bends over me, his eyes locked on mine as he lowers his lips to the jello, swirling it around with his tongue and spreading the sticky juices.

My eyelids flutter when his tongue brushes the skin just above my belly button, a breathy sigh falling from my lips. The jello, along with Dean’s tongue, moves upward, over my abdomen, running across each nipple in turn before sliding across my collarbone. My breath catches in my throat before ratcheting higher with every inch until I’m squirming and panting with need.

Not once do his hands touch me beyond the pressing weight he uses to hold me down. I groan at the lack of skin on skin, burning for that sweet contact, but the scrape of his teeth at my collarbone is enough of a distraction for now.

Then the jello is gone and I open my eyes just in time to see Dean swallow. He grins up at me—that little half smirk that never fails to make my stomach flip—as he picks up another shot, squeezing this one out onto my thigh. This time I’m prepared for the cold and manage not to flinch, allowing my eyes to fall shut as I tip my head back, letting Dean do as he pleases.

The jello moves slowly across my thigh, dipping in and swirling around before moving back out and driving me just a little insane. I swallow thickly, tugging on my hair to keep from reaching out to him. Fingers brush my knee and goosebumps race across my skin as they’re pushed open, baring me to his heated gaze.

The jello moves even deeper on my inner thigh, brushing the lace border of the panties as Dean’s tongue follows behind, licking up the trail of juice. I bite down on my bottom lip as a whimpering sigh squeezes out past the lump in my throat. _Finally_ , Dean’s hands run along the outside of my thighs as the jello moves to my other leg. It’s only a light touch but it has me rolling my hips for more. More touching, more tasting, more of him. Just… _more_. Dean swallows the jello and tsks, shaking his head as he moves to stand beside me, bending down to whisper in my ear.

“Getting impatient, are we?” The deep timbre of his voice has me moaning and fidgeting, my knees bending as I plant my feet on the countertop, my hips rolling of their own accord.

“Please,” I whimper, looking up at him with pleading eyes as every nerve ending in my body screams for his touch.

“Hmm,” he hums, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in my eyes. “Please what? Please touch you?”

He raises an eyebrow and I roll my head from side to side, too far gone to answer properly.

“You want to touch me?”

I nod, licking my lips as my eyes run over his flushed and sweaty chest.

He takes one of my hands, guiding it to his chest as I watch, itching to take over and just _touch him already._ But I don’t, allowing him to control the pace as he gently rests my fingertips on his abdomen, letting them drift lower and lower until I’m cupping his erection through his jeans. My fingers tighten around him, pulling a groan from his lips as his head falls back on his neck, his eyelids fluttering.

In an instant, he’s gone and my hand is back by my head. “Not yet, Love.”

I groan, dropping my head back as he moves to my feet. I close my eyes, hating and loving this torture—this slow build up that will end in the most mind-blowing orgasm I’ve ever had.

With my eyes closed I can’t tell where he is until the cold blob of jello hits my chest, cooling my flaming skin while stoking the heat higher as it moves slowly across my chest to each side, running over each nipple a second time as Dean rolls the other one between his finger, pinching and pulling until I’m gasping for breath.

“Dean,” I moan, letting my lips part slightly and my hands fall from my hair to hang over the end of the island. He chuckles, his breath tickling my already sensitive skin before the jello moves up my neck and over my chin. It slides across my lips, coating them in the tangy juices before Dean pushes harder, allowing me to take it into my mouth before he kisses me breathless.

My senses explode with the taste of lime and tequila and Dean as his tongue delves into the depths of my mouth, tasting and teasing as he steals the jello from me before giving it back. It runs down my chin but I’m so far past caring at this point, loving the desperate press of his lips as his fingers dive into my hair, pulling hard before his lips leave mine, licking up the trail dripping down my face.

I swallow the sweet treat as he licks and sucks his way down my throat, nipping occasionally as his hands leave my hair, traveling down my body with his lips and sucking hard enough to leave a trail of hickeys in his wake.

He forces my knees back down and apart and I moan low and long when his lips travel over the swell of my cock, straining against the now damp material of the panties. A gasp burst from me when his tongue flicks out, wanting nothing more than for the panties to be ripped away and to have his mouth on me. I _ache_ for it, needing it more than I need air. His hands graze over my skin so lightly, depriving me of what I need so badly.

He pulls away and I grunt in displeasure, jerking my hips up in a silent demand. He only chuckles, picking up the second to last shot and squeezing it out just above the lacy border. So close, yet so far. He wraps his lips around this one, making my cock jump; jealous from the lack of attention. Dean runs it along the edge of the panties, glancing up at me through his lashes with a teasing glint in his eyes.

I huff, dropping my head back in irritation. Suddenly, the cool slide of the jello is gone, replaced by the heat of Dean’s tongue only seconds later. I still don’t look up, my eyes drifting shut once more while the ache builds and builds.

If it weren’t for Dean’s hands holding me down, I’m sure I would’ve fallen off the counter the moment his tongue flicked over the head of my cock. My eyes fly open on a gasp and I shove myself up on my elbows to watch as he pulls the panties off my erection, leaving them hooked on my balls as he takes me in one hand, stroking slowly from root to tip.

His eyes snap up to mine very suddenly and he pulls away. “Down!” He growls and white-hot lust shoots through me as I do as he says, laying back and staring at the ceiling as he has his wicked way with me. He hums softly before taking me all the way in, swallowing me down as his throat works around me. I choke, my back arching off the counter as I struggle to calm down, needing this to last now that I have it.

He pulls off, hollowing his cheeks as he does while pumping his fist painfully slow. I bite down hard on my hand, needing the pain to hold off my orgasm but it’s not enough. “Dean…Dean I—” His mouth leaves me in an instant and I whimper from the loss.

“Turn over, Love,” he whispers and I slump with relief as I follow his request. He positions me on my hands and knees, ass in the air and cheek pressed to the countertop, legs spread wide. Dean’s fingers hook into the waistband of the panties and slide them down around my thighs, leaving me open and bare to him—utterly exposed. He moans his approval, running his warm hands over my sensitive flesh, goosebumps following his every touch as I whimper softly, rocking my hips mindlessly. “Last one,” he whispers against my skin before pressing a soft kiss to my ass cheek.

The cool jello falls onto my ass and I’m suddenly very aware of what comes next. I groan as my hips jerk of their own accord and Dean’s hand lands with a sharp sting, pulling a startled yelp from me before a burst of arousal shoots straight to my erection.

The jello is smeared beneath Dean’s hands as he spreads it over my ass, coating me with sticky, sweet goo.

With the first flick of his tongue, I feel the pressure inside me grow as full-body tremors race through me. Every lick after that coming closer and closer to the little, puckered hole in the center—my breaths getting heavier and heavier until I feel his tongue circle around my rim. A deep groan falls from my lips, and I press my ass closer, soaking in every sensation while he holds me open, pushing his tongue inside only to pull away, doing so over and over and driving me wild as I clench around him, trying uselessly to hold his tongue inside.

I grasp helplessly at the surface of the counter, trying to hold on as Dean teases me mercilessly with his talented tongue—circling then pushing inside again and again as I tremble and gasp, pushing my ass closer as he holds me in place.

“Please…Dean,” I beg, looking back over my shoulder at his flushed face and hooded eyes as they meet mine, burning through me with their intensity as he grips both cheeks in his hands and kisses each one. My eyelids flutter shut.

His hands leave me and I whimper at the loss. He’s not gone long, though; returning only seconds later and climbing up on the counter behind me, situating himself between my legs.

The cap of a bottle pops open just before Dean’s slicked up fingers circle my hole, pressing in gently as I push back on them, moaning softly. It burns at first as his big fingers stretch me open, but he’s careful—gentle—and soon I’m rocking back on his fingers and clenching around them, the sounds coming from my mouth unintelligible at best.

When he’s three fingers deep and satisfied that I’m ready, he pulls them out and I hear the cap pop open again before the blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance, pushing slowly but persistently as he strokes the curve of my ass, murmuring soft, soothing words to get me to relax.

“You feel so good, Cas. Just breathe, Love. It’ll be so good for you.” I take deep breaths, forcing my muscles to relax and accept him. He pushes in on a grunt, thrusting slowly until he’s buried to the root and shaking behind me. It burns but, oh God, does it feel _good_. “Tell me when you’re ready,” Dean’s pants, gripping my hips with bruising strength. I take my time, breathing deeply and squeezing my eyes shut as he presses soft kisses along my spine. “Take your time—don’t want to hurt you.”

“O-okay, I’m—I’m ready,” I whisper and he starts to move, thrusting shallowly at first before deepening them, hitting that sweet spot inside me with every one and drawing moan after moan from me as I tremble uncontrollably, the pleasure crashing over me in waves. “Dean—h-harder.”

“You sure?”

All I can do is nod as I grip the edge of the counter.

He grinds into me, angling my hips to get deeper, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in hard and fast, knocking a choked shout from me as he hits my prostate. His fingers dig into the flesh of my ass, gripping hard as he pounds into me, grunting and moaning every time he bottoms out. My head spins with pleasure, dragging me closer and closer to the edge as I gasp his name.

Suddenly, my knees are knocked out from under me and Dean lays down along my back, grinding hard as he wraps his arms around me, pressing gentle kisses to my neck, my jaw, my cheek.

The change is so abrupt it leaves me shaking as I turn to give him my lips and he slides his tongue into my mouth while he fucks me harder, taking and giving pleasure before releasing my mouth and sinking his teeth into my shoulder as he jerks against me, filling me with his come.

“Holy fuck…ah, _Cas!_ ” He shouts, tipping me over the edge. I jerk against him as blinding pleasure consumes me, coming with my erection trapped against the countertop and Dean’s voice in my ear, whispering words of encouragement as I shake and moan.

His hips slow as we both come down from the high, blissed out and gasping for breath. Dean kisses the bite on my neck, soothing the sting with his tongue as he continues to whisper in my ear.

Eventually, when the sweat has dried and the come starts to leak out of me, Dean pushes himself up. He pulls off his jeans and tosses them aside before pulling the panties the rest of the way off my legs. I rest my cheek on my folded arms as I watch him, a gentle smile curving my lips as my eyelids threaten to close.

Dean stares at me with such fondness in his eyes as his fingers run through my hair. “We need to shower.”

I just blink at him.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a piggy-back ride.” I grudgingly pull myself up, groaning the whole time, and sit on the stool as Dean squats in front of me, bracing himself to take my weight as I wrap my legs around his waist and lock my arms around his shoulders, laying my cheek on top of his head.

He stands, holding my legs behind my knees as he moves out of the kitchen, turning off the lights and leaving the mess of empty jello cups for tomorrow. Hopefully, Luna doesn’t get any ideas.

His soft steps rock me back and forth, lulling me into a deep calm. I’m asleep before we reach the end of the hall.


	26. Oh, Sammy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one! I feel like this one took foreeevvver but I've been really sick and had a funeral and a whole bunch of other stuff so forgive me. The next one will not take this long.
> 
> Let me know what you think about this one! Do you like Sam's POV?

**_December 11, 2010_ **

_SAM_

My teeth chatter and I’m my shaking, but not from the cold. God no—I _wish_ I were cold because anything beats how bad I’m burning up. And this _headache_ …I need…I _need—_

Fuck.

I don’t even know how I got here, under the bleachers, in the middle of the homecoming game. _If Dean finds out…_

He can’t find out—no one can. I can’t do it—I’m not strong enough.

The horn blows, signaling another touchdown, and my head feels like it’s being cleaved in two. _I can’t do it_.

My heart pounds against my ribs—too fast to be safe—and, God, the _nausea_ …I don’t dare to look at the puddle of vomit next to me.

With shaking hands, I pull my phone from my pocket. I can barely dial Ruby’s number but I manage and press the phone to my ear, listening to it ring.

The voice that answers isn’t who I expect but it’s not exactly surprising, either. “Samuel! What can I do for you?”

“I need more you fucking bastard,” I snap, hating the chuckle that comes over the line.

“I knew you would. I’ll send Ruby within the hour. Meet at the usual spot.” Azazel hangs up and a rush of relief washes over me—I fucking hate myself.

 

**_January 10, 2019_ **

_SAM_

My apartment’s dark, like I knew it would be. I mean, I’m glad I remembered to turn off the lights before leaving for Kansas, but…it’s lonely. Especially now, with Gabe and I not on speaking terms.

I sigh, flicking on the lights and dropping my bag by the door—I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I need some food. Of course, the fridge is empty, but I remembered that, and toss the salad container I picked up from the whole-foods store down the block onto the counter before digging around in the cupboard for a plate.

I fall back on the couch with my food in one hand and a beer in the other, kicking my feet up on the table. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to stay in Kansas as much as I did this morning. I mean, I love school and my friends and everything, it’s just…Gabe. Gabe’s here and I really, _really_ don’t want to see him. And I know I should explain what happened and why I told him to leave me alone but, honestly, I’m not sure _I_ know why.

It was just too much, too fast and I still don’t even know why I started things with him in the first place. Jess will always be my girl—the love of my life—so maybe that’s it? I tried to move on too soon? With a guy, no less? I don’t know, but I can’t tell Dean because he’ll tell Castiel and then it’ll all just be one great big _mess_.

Dean’s been doing so good, too. He’s finally _happy_ and I won’t mess that up for him again. He’ll just worry if I tell him and he doesn’t need to worry about me anymore; he’s done enough of that to last a lifetime. I’ll figure this out on my own.

I take a swig of my beer and turn on the TV. It’s too quiet in here, and the background noise is soothing even though I know it’s only a temporary fix. The salad’s good though, and I need to get back into healthy eating after the holidays. Maybe I’ll go to the gym tomorrow; Gabe never goes so I should be safe.

My phone rings in my pocket but I don’t bother pulling it out. I know who it’ll be and I sigh—even if I avoid him in person, he still knows my number—he can still call.

For some reason, the thought doesn’t annoy me as much as it calms me; I can talk to him whenever I want, even if right now isn’t one of those times.

My thoughts war against each other as I finish my salad and swallow back the rest of my beer and I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like—being in a relationship with Gabe, that is. Would I even like anal sex? I don’t think so, but maybe…yeah, not going there and _definitely_ not asking Dean about it.

Getting up to put my dishes away, I pull out my phone, deleting the notifications from Gabe and dialing Dean’s number. I hold the phone to my ear, listening to it ring as I wait for him to pick up.

It’s nine in the morning here but it’ll only be seven there. He probably went back to bed after dropping me off at the airport so he might be sleeping but the least I can do is leave him a voicemail.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean says through a yawn, picking up just before the voicemail. “What’s up?” I open my mouth to speak when I hear rustling from the other end. Dean grunts before speaking again. “One sec.” His voice is muffled like he’s trying to cover the speaker with his hand. “C-Cas! It’s Sam…You really want my brother to hear you sucking my dick?” Obviously, he fails.

“Just called to tell you I landed, gotta go!” I hang up before he can protest.

The last thing I need or _want_ to hear is Dean getting a blowjob. Sighing, I head for my room. I might as well go back to bed for a while—maybe all this shit will make sense when I wake up.

 

_DEAN_

“Go for Rosen.”

“Hey, Becky, it’s Dean Winchester.” I glance around the doorframe one more time to make sure Cas is still dealing with the flower shipment before heading up to the apartment, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Dean,” she sighs. “The still-good-looking-but-not-nearly-as-handsome older brother of the love of my life. How is Sam? Is he seeing anyone?” I roll my eyes, closing the door behind me and sitting on the edge of the couch with my elbows resting on my thighs.

“He’s good. Not sure if he’s single.” I lick my lips and send up a quick prayer to anyone that might be listening. “So listen, you remember back when you and Sammy were in sixth grade and I got him to dance with you at the winter-whatever-the-fuck-it-was-called?”

“How could I forget? That was the moment I knew we would be together forever.” I can almost see the dreamy look on her face. _Barf_.

“Yeah, yeah, and you said you owe me one? Well, I’m collecting.” I squeeze my eyes shut and wince, hoping she goes for it.

“That was forever ago, Dean Winchester. You can’t expect me to _actually_ follow through?” Damn.

“You haven’t even heard what I want yet.” I flop back into the cushion, checking the time on my watch before glancing at the door.

“Fine, but no promises.”

“Okay, so I know you’re in the publishing business—”

“I’m not publishing _Dean Winchester's Greatest Hits_ ,” she huffs and I scowl.

“Yes, you made that clear the first time I asked.” Jeez, can’t let some shit _go_. It was _one_ night! I was drunk! I didn’t even write the damn thing! But letting me forget about it just isn’t gonna happen, I guess. Okay, so I was pretty annoying—Sam told me so later—but still, cut a guy some slack.

“That’s not what this is about.” I swallow back the lump in my throat and take a deep breath. “This guy…he’s an amazing writer but he was shot down by some guy named Dick Roman—”

“Oh, I know all about Mr. Roman,” she practically growls. “Wouldn’t even bother with an interview when he learned about my…um…shall we say, pastimes on a certain fan fiction website.” She clears her throat but doesn’t continue. Hope sparks in my chest that maybe she can find sympathy for Cas’s story.

“Anyway, he showed him his book and, well, you can probably guess the rest.”

She makes a noise that lets me know she does.

“So I want you to publish it.”

“Hold on, I can’t just do that. You know this; there’s a _process_.”

My shoulders droop in defeat and I sag deeper into the cushions. “Yeah, I know.”

“The most I can do is look at it and go from there.”

I shoot to my feet, hope swelling in my chest once more as I beam at nothing in particular. “Really?”

“No guarantees, Winchester. Just because you say it’s good, doesn’t mean it is.”

I roll my eyes, trying really hard not to get offended on Cas’s behalf.

“Send it over and I’ll give it a look and let you know.” A door opens and closes on the other end of the line and I take that as my cue to wrap things up.

“Great!” We sort out a few minor details and hang up. I sit back down, unable to contain my excitement. This is what Cas wanted and now we’re so close—I can almost picture his delight when I tell him.

But there’s still the very real possibility that he _won’t_ be published, and if I tell him and that happens, he’ll be crushed. I can’t do that to him. Okay, I won’t tell him; not until I get a definite _yes_ , or not at all if I get a definite _no_.

With that out of the way, I hop down the stairs, feeling light and happy. Cas looks up at me with a scowl, a pencil tucked behind his ear and a clipboard in his hand, wearing that ridiculous black and yellow striped shirt.

“Dean, a little help would be much appreciated.” I can only grin, stepping between the rows of potted plants to get to his side.

“Just had to make a phone call.” I take his cheeks in my hands and press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away. “What can I do?”

He narrows his suspiciously but doesn’t push the issue, pointing instead at a bucket of some fancy-ass flowers and telling me where they go.

He points and I move until the delivery truck is gone and everything’s put in its place. Alfie helps some, too, but he’s mostly busy with customers and can’t do much. It’s okay, though; Cas is so good at what he does and I love watching him take control of his business.

When the store closes for the night, I send Cas up to change while I lock up for him, entering the security code and locking the door. I wait for Cas in the car and tap out a quick text to Sam, letting him know how everything is here. I’m on my three-day off stretch and, as much as I love my job, God, do I need the break. I forgot how exhausting the work can be—from the maintenance to the paperwork and everything in between—not to mention the actual _physical demand_ of the job. I don't think I’ve ever been so sore in my life.

I wouldn’t trade it for anything, though.

I stare at my phone when there’s no answer. He’s probably in class, but he’s been really shifty since he left. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t worry me a bit, but I’ll give him his space and let him come around—it’s what I’d want, so I’ll give him the same courtesy.

The passenger’s side door opens and Cas slides in. I give him a warm smile that he returns, buckling up as I drive us to dinner.

“When was the last time you had the states best burger?” I glance over at him with a grin before looking back at the road, stopping at a red light before looking over at him properly. He’s watching me closely, his head tilted to the side in that adorable way he does when thinking really hard on something.

“Senior year,” he answers, a grin pulling up one half of his mouth. “Bela’s?” He asks and I chuckle, nodding in confirmation as the light turns green and I start to go. “Do you remember the cheap takeout burgers we ate there after hours?”

“God, that was fucking blasphemy,” I chuckle, shaking my head and thinking back on those nights. The food really didn’t matter, though—it was the company that made them so memorable.

“It was wonderful,” Cas says under his breath. I _almost_ don’t hear him as he turns his head to face the window, but I do—just barely—and my heart skips a beat.

“That, it was.” I take his hand in mine, bring it to my lips for a lingering kiss as my heart warms. God, I love him—how did I get lucky enough to fall in love with him twice in one lifetime? I used to think love was something only a chosen few got—myself not included—but, fuck, to get to fall in love with the same man twice? Shit like that just doesn’t happen. No one gets that lucky.

I squeeze his hand tighter as I park, suddenly needing to hold on to him as hard as I can. It’s irrational, I know, but I just need to know I have him.

“Hey, Cas?”

He hums, looking at me with a raised eyebrow as we find our table in the back corner of the patio.

I scratch the back of my neck as we take our seats, my face flushing just a little. “Did you ever, uh—you know, would you wanna…”

“Would I want to…what?” The little half grin he has only widens when my blush deepens.

“Okay, fine.” I clear my throat and sit up in my chair before taking his hands in mine. “Castiel Charles Novak—”

“That’s not my middle name.”

“—Would you,” I say louder, talking over him, “want to move in with me?” I manage to keep my cool on the outside, but inside, I’m losing my shit. What if he says no? That would be just…well, really fucking shitty.

“What about my shop?”

I’ve thought of that. “Rent out the apartment and keep the shop.” I shrug, squeezing his hands. I swallow hard as a bead of sweat runs down the back of my neck. God, this is harder than I thought.

He pulls his hands out of mine and I really start to panic. He’s going to say no—I know it. I knew it was too soon. God, I should’ve listened to Benny—

“I’d love to.” Wait, what? I stare at him wide-eyed as he grins at me. It’s small and shy, but it’s there and I’m having just a little bit of a hard time believing it’s real.

“You—you…you would—”

“Love to move in with you,” he finishes for me, picking up his menu and looking through the options. My heart pounds in my chest and all I can do is stare at him. This can’t be real and I stealthily pinch my thigh to make sure I’m not dreaming. “I’m there all the time anyway, so I don’t see why not.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal but it definitely is a _huge fucking deal_.

I think I might pass out. No. No, I’m going to explode. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do; I’ll explode with happiness.

I shoot out of my chair, startling Cas and everyone in the vicinity as I fist pump before grabbing Cas face and planting a wet one right on his lips. I’m grinning so wide my cheeks ache when I sit back down, Cas’s startled eyes staring back at me. I know I should tone it down but…yeah, fuck that. I’m _excited_.

Before Cas can comment, a waitress arrives with some water and takes our orders. We both get the same thing—a bacon-cheeseburger with extra secret-sauce and the pickles on the side, fries, and their signature lemonade.

After she’s gone, Cas looks at me with wide eyes and an amused smirk. “What was that?”

I flush, looking down at my water and taking a sip to stall. Okay, so yeah, I didn’t think he’d say yes. It’s just…everything we’ve been through and all the shit I put him through? I didn’t think we would ever get to this point. He’s such a careful person and we’ve only been together for a few months, but, I don’t know. It was more of a shot-in-the-dark kind of thing.

“I’m just really happy, okay? Can’t I be glad you want to live with me?” I raise an eyebrow and take another sip of my water.

“Of course you can.” I can practically hear the _but_ at the end of that but I don’t comment. I don’t want to explain and he doesn’t push for it, so I leave it alone.

We eat in relative silence, just enjoying our food and company without having to fill the space with words. I think I love that about him, too—his ability to just _be_ with me. There’s no discomfort in the silence like with most people. I feel like we could sit here forever—not talking—just spending time together. Of course, I love talking to him too, but there’s something different in the way we don’t speak—some kind of understanding in the words that aren’t said—and I find myself falling harder for him in these moments.

When we’re finished eating, I hook my foot behind his under the table, getting a curious, raised eyebrow in response. I just smile, biting my lip and tilting my head. Our waitress comes by and grabs our plates—I don’t look up but Cas asks for the dessert menu. When he looks back at me, I grin wider.

“Have you thought about what you want to do on our trip?” I raise an eyebrow at him, biting my bottom lip and reaching for his hand. He gives it over, twining our fingers together as he tilts his head in thought.

“I was hoping to visit the Emily Dickinson Museum in Amherst, and there’s this bookstore there, too, that I would like to look into. Also, Emerson’s house in Concord; I’d like to see that as well…”

My heart melts as I watch him, his eyes wide and shining, as he describes his greatest wish to me. I take note of it all, filing it away for our trip. We’ll do it all—every last stop—because that smile is everything I want to see in my life.

He goes on and on until the waitress comes to take our dessert orders. I get the cherry pie and Cas gets blueberry.

“We’ll be there on Valentine’s day, you know.” I bite my lip and look at him through my lashes, watching the blush creep up his neck and flood his cheeks. He looks down at our entwined fingers, a happy smile on his face.

“I know,” he whispers, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “You get to plan that one.”

“Why?”

“You have the experience. I’ve never dated anyone but you.” He shrugs, his eyes shifting to the waitress when she brings our pie. “Besides, I want to see what you plan.” He winks—actually _winks_ —at me before releasing my hand and picking up his fork.

I groan. “Just because I’ve had other relationships doesn’t mean I’ve actually _done_ anything for Valentine’s day. Do you know how many have actually lasted that long?”

“Two. Well, technically one, because they were both with Lisa, but that’s beside the point.”

I roll my eyes, huffing as I take a bite of my own pie before talking around it. “Okay, but that was easy. Flowers, dinner, and sex. She was a simple woman.” I shrug, sipping the last of my lemonade and sitting back in my chair. “You, my love, are neither simple nor a woman.”

“I’m glad you’ve noticed.”

I throw my head back on a laugh, watching his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

“We’ll start moving my things into your house when we get back?” He takes another bite of his pie but misses his mouth a little, getting some on his bottom lip. I reach over and wipe it before sticking my thumb in my mouth to suck it off. He watches the action, his eyelids drooping has his jaw goes slack. “Maybe I’ll stay with you until then, though.”

That pulls another laugh from me as my heart does a flip in my chest. “Why do we have to wait?”

“Well…” He tilts his head in thought, looking at the people around us. “I need to find someone to rent it out first.” I nod—it’s a valid reason and no matter how hard I try to think of a reason to speed up the process, I can’t.

“You’ll still stay with me, though, right?” This feeling is so new to me—how did I come to need him this much? I want him around all the time and I miss him as soon as he’s gone. It’s not healthy, I’m sure, but it feels so fucking _right_ that I just can’t bring myself to care.

“Of course.” He nods, not bringing up the fact that he already said he would. He does that cute little thing with his nose that makes me want to kiss him. “Or you could stay with me.” He shrugs, sipping on his lemonade as he watches me, a playful smile turning up his lips around the straw.

“My bed’s bigger,” I point out, pointing a finger at him and leaning back in my chair.

He just drops the straw back into his drink and raises an eyebrow at me. “Mine is more comfortable.”

“Yours is a mattress on the floor,” I retort, looking at him incredulously as he rolls his eyes.

“It most certainly is _not_.” He crosses his arms over his chest, mock scowling as he stares me down.

I laugh, shaking my head and nudging his foot with mine. “We stay there once a week,” I offer.

“Twice,” he counters before tilting his head and adding, “On your days off.”

I groan, tilting my head back and looking up at the blue sky above us. The slight breeze doesn’t do much to cool the evening off but I still huddle deeper into my jacket.

“One day off,” I say, dropping my head back down to meet his eyes. He thinks for a moment before nodding, stretching his arm across the table to shake on it.

I raise an eyebrow but take his hand, bringing his knuckles to my lips and kissing them before releasing him.

With that sorted, we finish our dessert, discussing a few minor details about our trip and when we’ll move all his things over. Cas seems to decide he wants to unpack the boxes in the meantime. God only knows why, but he insists, saying something about wanting to feel at home for the rest of the time he’s there. Eventually, I throw up my hands in defeat.

We pay for our meals when the waitress comes and I take his hand, leading him back to the car. I think this might just be a perfect day if those do exist. I glance at Cas as we walk, swaying our hands back and forth.

I nod—yeah, if there’s such a thing as a perfect day, today is as close as I’ll get.

 

_SAM_

I should go home—I should _really_ go home. This is like, the _last_ place I should be and yet, here I am. I have class tomorrow. I _should_ be sleeping.

Yeah, I’ve tried that, but between the stress and my nap this morning…well, I just can’t. I take a swig of my beer, having already lost count of how many I’ve had, and scan the bar, looking for something—or, rather, some _one_ —to take my mind off everything.

Okay, so it’s not the best coping method but whatever. At this point, I just need _something_ to work before I go insane.

Gabe hasn’t stopped calling from the moment I stepped into my apartment, leaving message after message until I finally just turned it off, tired of the constant reminder that what I’m doing isn’t fair, and even _more_ tired of the sliver of worry churning my gut with every new call.

So here I am.

A pair of pretty blue eyes catch my attention down the bar and gold curls that fall down her back hold it. She smiles shyly, tucking a strand behind her ear and looking at me through her lashes. I grin, holding my beer up to her before taking a swig. She bites her bottom lip and slides off her stool, coming to sit next to me.

“How’s it going?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at her and grinning. She just smiles, raising two fingers to signal the bartender before holding her hand out for me to take as her round cheeks pull up in a smile.

She says her name but it’s drowned out by the music and I don’t bother asking for it again.

“Sam,” I say, holding her hand for a second longer than is strictly necessary but she doesn’t pull away until the bartender comes over.

The music makes it almost impossible to hear so we don’t talk, drinking shot after shot until my head spins and Gabe is shoved to the back of my mind, pushing to the front every so often before being pushed back by another shot and a whiff of blondies perfume.

Eventually, she takes my hand and leads me to the back hallway, her skirt riding up as she walks and giving me the occasional glimpse of red panties and smooth skin. She pushes through the bathroom door at the end of the hall, looking over her shoulder with a smirk as I stumble along behind her. She locks the door before her lips lock on mine, sloppy and wet. I try to kiss her back as best I can, pulling her hips to me and pushing the niggling feeling of guilt away.

She pulls back suddenly, grinning up at me as she digs through her purse. “Do a line with me?” She giggles, pulling out a little baggy full of an all too familiar white power and a dollar bill.

I sag against the door, my head swimming in alcohol as I try desperately to think of a reason why I shouldn’t. Dean would hate it—I know that—but that just isn’t enough. Not with the horror show that is my life right now. I need this and nothing in my alcohol soaked brain is telling me why I shouldn’t.

So I nod.

She grins.

I step up to the counter and take the rolled up bill from her hand, giving her one last glance before closing my eyes and bending over the counter with the bill held to my nose.

I inhale.

 

God, it was never this bad. It couldn’t have been _this_ bad.

I curl my arms around my knees, hugging them to my chest and leaning my head against the cool cement wall. Sweat drips down my forehead and every other part of my body as I shake, my head spinning and my stomach flipping. I groan.

Fuck, this is why people stay on crack. _This_ feeling is why you don’t get help. Not because you love the high—you just can’t stand the fall.

My head pounds violently; like someone’s drilling into my skull over and over. I reach into my pocket and try to focus on the screen as I hold down the power button. It shifts and blurs as I press on the most recent missed call. I know who it is but at this point, I don’t care. I need him.

Gabe picks up on the first ring, his frantic voice letting loose a whole new storm of guilt.

“Sam? Sam, are you okay? It’s—it’s like, what? Four in the morning—are you okay?” My eyes fall shut and I slump against the wall, holding the phone tighter against my ear as my stomach clenches again.

“I fucked up, Gabe,” I whisper. “I need you.”

I listen as he rattles off questions, answering each one as he takes charge. I relax just a little—it’ll be okay—but Dean can never know this happened. I’ll have to make sure Gabe never tells him or Cas or _anyone_. No one can _ever_ know.


	27. Death Of You And Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH! So here's the next chapter and so soooon! I hope you like this one too!  
> Let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> WARNING!!  
> MAKE SURE YOU READ THE TAGS BEFORE READING THIS!!! THEY WILL BE RELEVANT SO KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GETTING IN TO!!!  
> (also sorry not sorry)
> 
> (if you have any questions/comments please feel free to leave them and I'll answer to the best of my ability without spoiling anything)

****

**_January 23, Present Day_ **

_DEAN_

Pam steps aside to let me through, giving me a small, professional smile as she closes the door behind me and takes her seat. She doesn’t say anything for a few moments but I don’t mind, content to just lean into the corner of the couch, my arm slung over the back, and wait.

“You seem happy, Dean.” She raises an eyebrow, crossing one pant-suited leg over the other.

I just shrug.

“How is your work?”

“It’s great. Good to get back into the swing of things.” My grin widens. I really am good—better than I’ve been in, well… _ever_ , now that I think about it. Cas and I are great and, yeah, Sam’s still having his own issues but he’s coming around.

She hums on a nod, scribbling something down in her notebook. “Castiel mentioned that you two are moving in together. Tell me about that.”

I sit forward, resting my elbows on my knees as my heart does a little flip at the mention of Cas. A warm feeling invades my chest, tickling all the way down to my toes.

“Um, yeah, we’re going to move his stuff in when we get back from our trip.” I bite my lip and shake my head. He’s probably unpacking everything as I sit here. Only God knows why, but I don’t feel the need to argue. “He’s got this idea in his head that he needs to unpack everything from his mom’s before we pack it all up in a month and move it over to my house.” I roll my eyes and laugh softly, falling into the cushions and letting my head tip back so I’m looking at the ceiling. “God knows I love him but sometimes he’s just…” I shake my head as I trail off, the warmth spreading to my stomach as the grin on my face turns fond. _What would I do without him?_

“Did you ask him why?”

I drop my head, narrowing my eyes at Pam. That sneaky psychologist…what’s she getting at? “‘Course I did.”

“And what did he say?” My eyebrow arches up and I get the feeling she knows exactly what Cas had to say about it. Hell, she probably heard it from the man himself; but she would never tell me that, what with patient confidentiality and all.

I huff, throwing my hands up in the air at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation. “Something about wanting to feel at home while he’s still there, I don’t know; it’s not like he’s not at my place almost every night anyway, and I don’t get it, but, whatever.” I shrug, lowering my hands and doing my best to let it slide, but there’s this little sliver of something poking at the back of my mind that I just can’t seem to shake away.

“Did you ever consider that maybe Castiel needs to do this? For his own healing, that is?”

I scowl at her, my mouth pinching up in distaste. How in the hell could that be helpful? To unpack just to pack and move again? It just sounds tedious and annoying—to me at least.

Pam doesn’t give me a chance to answer before continuing. “Castiel has always felt at risk of losing everything, as I’m sure you know.” She raises an eyebrow at me and I nod guiltily. “He was never allowed to see anything through to the end, as it were. This may be his way of doing that.” She shrugs as if it’s all that simple. And it is, but fuck, it stings.

I’ve been teasing and ridiculing him when I should’ve been supporting him. Shit, there’s nothing quite like being slapped in the face with your own shortcomings, and from a shrink, no less. “I get it,” I mutter, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands. I sigh heavily before looking up at her, blinking a few times to clear the spots from my eyes, before nodding again. “Speaking of seeing things through…” I trail off, fidgeting in my seat and refusing to meet her eyes. I doubt she’ll take this next bit well.

I know she’s staring, I can feel her gaze burning through me, trying to unearth my secrets and rip them from my brain to analyze under a proverbial microscope. I sigh again, flexing my fingers and biting the inside of my cheek before letting it out.

“I...wanttoaskCastomarryme.” It comes out in a rush of air, and after it’s out I take a deep breath, meeting her eyes and holding them. I have nothing to feel ashamed of, but somehow I still feel like a kid caught doing something wrong.

“Have you thought this through?” Her face is carefully impassive, her head cocked to one side in a way that’s eerily similar to Cas.

“I mean, well, I’m happy, Cas is happy, and I can’t see myself with anyone else.” I shrug, wincing inwardly at how horrible that sounds. _Great, nothing says you love someone like shrugging at the thought of marriage._

“You have not regained your memories in their entirety. Can you really say for certain that there’s nothing that could change your mind?” I’m so thrown by her claim that I don’t answer for a moment, and she continues. “This isn’t a decision that you should take lightly, Dean. You have a history with Castiel that I’m not sure you two have completely worked through. I’m not saying marriage should be out of the cards, per se, but perhaps it might be a good idea to put off asking him until you know everything.”

My mouth opens but nothing comes out, so I close it again, furrowing my eyebrows and running my fingers over my pocket—feeling the bulge of the little envelope tucked deep inside. “We’ve wasted so much time already…” My eyes drift from her to the window that looks out over the city-scape. Traffic is heavy—I can hear horns blaring and people shouting even from up here—and I think of all the individual lives down there. Everyone going on with their own lives, all dealing with different struggles, and fighting to achieve different dreams…

My eyes drift back to her’s. “I don’t want to waste any more time. I—I got to fall in love with him twice. I got a second chance.” I sit forward, my gaze imploring her to understand. “How many times does that happen? That I get to fix my dumbass mistakes? Not many, I’d guess, so I just want to grab on while I can.”

Pam nods, pulling her lips in between her teeth as she looks down at her notes. “This is your decision, Dean, so I won’t tell you what to do… but I want you to be careful. Make sure this is something that you both really want.” She smiles thinly as her timer goes off, signaling the end of our session. I stand up and thank her for her time before leaving.

I know what I want and I don’t think there’s anything in the world that could stop me from being with him—I _know_ there’s nothing. With that in mind, that’s exactly where I go—to him.

Cas is in the middle of helping a customer when the bell above the door rings. He glances up from his position at the cash register, his eyes lighting up and his smile softening when he sees me, before turning back to the woman and handing her her change with a polite smile.

“Thought you were taking the evening off?” I raise an eyebrow as I round the counter, slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him into me. His arms move to wrap around my shoulders, his eyes drooping as he raises one eyebrow.

“What would I do that for, hm?” I scrunch my nose up, pulling him closer as I dip my chin, catching his lips with mine for a soft, slow kiss. He hums into it, swaying back and forth before pulling away. “I’m working, Dean,” he whispers, moving out of my arms to fix a few displays.

My bottom lip pushes out in a pout as he once again refuses to tell me what he’s doing for my birthday. The bell over the door chimes again and Cas smiles politely at the customer, moving around the counter to greet them while I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text to Sam. Maybe he’ll tell me what Cas is up to.

I huff when I get a resounding _hell no_ , quickly shoving my phone back in my pocket before heading for the stairs to Cas’s apartment, weaving through the rows of flowers and giving a polite smile to Hannah when I pass her.

I hop up the steps two at a time, pushing through the door and closing it behind me. My shoulders slump and I groan as a dull ache starts up behind my eyes when I see the piles of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. My head falls forward as I massage my temples— _God, I need some meds._ Ignoring the boxes, I head for the kitchen, digging around in Cas’s cupboards for the little pill bottle I keep in there. I take two with water, knowing the pain will only get worse if I leave it for too long.

When there’s nothing left to distract me, I stand in the middle of the living room, staring at the boxes. With a heavy sigh, I get to work, pulling a box off the top of a stack and digging through it.

There’s not much of interest, really—some old books and a few shirts that Cas has long since grown out of—but I put them away nonetheless. I get through the first stack of boxes in the same way, not finding anything interesting and knowing that more than half of it is useless to Cas anyway. But _still_ , I put it _all_ away, keeping Dr. Barnes’ words in mind.

Time flies while I work and soon, Cas is walking through the door, looking tired but happy; a warm smile pulling up the corners of his lips as he lowers himself onto the bed, leaning back on his hands as he watches me.

“How was your appointment?” He raises an eyebrow, smiling cheekily at me. He asks me the same question every time, always tilting his head just so and smiling. I’d be lying if I said it’s not entirely endearing.

“Enlightening,” I say, as I do every time, and toss the empty box to the side, starting on the next one before a thought pops into my head. “Oh, hey!” I say, grabbing my jacket from where I tossed it on the bed and pulling out the photo album Cas gave me for Christmas. I flop down next to him, flipping through the pages. “I wanted to ask you about one of these, just let me—ah-ha! Here it is.” I angle the book so he can see the photo in question. “So, you remember when this was taken? I’ve tried placing it but, well...” I shrug.

In the photo Cas and I stand close—closer than _just friends_ should stand—and I’m slinging an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into my side. Cas was never really that much shorter than me, but he’s looking up at me in this photo, his head tilted back with the most radiant of smiles, a look of wonder in his eyes. Even after seeing it more than once, there’s still a pang in my chest—a swelling sort of feeling that’s not at all unpleasant.

I’m looking down at Cas, clearly mid-sentence and failing to fight back a wide grin. His hand is twined in my jacket, fingers curling into the leather. I don’t recognize the space around us—a heavily wooded area with nothing even remotely manmade in sight. Neither of us seems to know there’s a camera, and from how we used to be, I imagine we wouldn’t have been standing so close if we knew someone was watching. I sure as hell wouldn’t have been looking at Cas like that—like he’s the only thing in the world worth looking at.

Cas’s finger traces the edge of the photo and my eyes flick to his. He’s smiling softly at the page, his head tilted and his eyes bright. “I’m...not sure.” He looks up at me, his eyes drifting over my face before resettling on mine. “If you leave it here, I can ask Gabe. He might have taken it.” He shrugs, taking the album from my hands and tossing it aside in favor of sliding his hand to the nape of my neck and pulling me in for a kiss.

Soft and slow, he nibbles at my lip before coaxing my mouth open. I pull him closer as warmth pulses through me, settling deep in my bones as it does every time he kisses me. It’s a deep-rooted love, burrowing so far inside me, I wouldn’t even know where to begin in digging it out—not that I’d ever want to.

He pulls away after a minute or two, his face flushed and eyes glassy, but he smiles, running his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of my neck before kissing my nose…my cheeks…my lips one more time.

He stands, leaving me in a daze as he heads for the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on moments later and I shake myself. There are only a few more boxes; I can get them finished before it gets too late.

Not too much time later, Cas steps through the door in nothing but a towel. “I’m a little hurt that you didn’t join me.” His bottom lip sticks out in a pout and I roll my eyes but don’t respond, too busy with the box in front of me. Cas gets dressed, puttering around the room before coming up behind me where I’m rearranging a few books to fit on the shelf, and wrapping his arms around me. “I’m leaving now,” he whispers, kissing the spot just behind my ear.

I lean back into his chest, soaking in his warmth even as cool droplets of water fall from his hair and land on my neck. “If you wait for me to finish this box, I can drive you.”

He licks the water from my neck, eliciting a muted moan from me. “That won’t be necessary; Sam should be here shortly.”

My eyebrows shoot up but I don’t comment, keeping my pleased grin to myself. “Sure thing, let me know when you get there.” I turn in his arms, running my fingers through his hair and pulling him in for a quick kiss. It’s short—just a gentle peck—but I can feel his love all the same. I could kiss him forever, I think—I could kiss him forever and still not have enough. Finally, we break apart. “I’ll be home in a bit; gonna finish these first.” I shoot him a wink and let him go, watching him walk out the door.

I watch through the window as Sam pulls up a few minutes later. Cas gets in and they’re off. Damn, I miss him already. I double down on the unpacking and within half an hour, I’m finally on the last box.

I sigh heavily as I rip off the tape, tossing it aside into the sticky pile I’ve made. I’ll have to find a garbage bag in the mess of Cas’s cupboards after I finish. Or, maybe I’ll have to go to the store for a box, knowing Cas and his aversion to shopping. Cas is going to regret all this unpacking when it’s time to pack it all up again. I smirk as I pull a pile of t-shirts off the top. Maybe I’ll just let him do it, seeing as I did most of the unpacking—

My eyes lock on the item resting between the two layers of shirts, and suddenly I’m frozen. No—it…that can’t be…

I wrap my fingers around the dark frames, pulling Cas’s reading glasses from the box as my heart kicks up to a dangerous speed, my stomach doing somersaults. The cracked lenses stare back at me, piercing me with a memory so sharp and so vivid that I stumble. Cracked lenses and bent frames, tossed aside in the dirt…

The flood of memories hits me like a tsunami, pouring in faster than I can handle. Cracks splinter outward until I shatter, the force of each forgotten memory blasting through and literally knocking me off my feet.

I hit the floor, gasping for air; helpless as I crumble beneath the weight of my greatest sin.

_Cas…_

**_December 17, Eight Years Ago_ **

_DEAN_

Fuck, this is bad. This is _really_ bad.

I follow behind Lucas and Mikey as they march the entire fucking football team across the field on their hunt for Cas because I _failed_. I fucking failed the final and now I can’t play tonight. I honestly wouldn’t even care if it weren’t for _this_.

My heart is beating painfully, clearly trying to escape by breaking straight through my ribcage, and my stomach’s rolling hard enough that vomiting is a very real threat. I need to stop them before they get to Cas. I _need_ to. What the hell am I going to do if we find him? My head spins with ideas that’ll get me nowhere and every part of me feels weighed down—the entire world resting on my shoulders. _My_ entire world.

I'm so lost in my head that I almost stumble right into Mikey’s back when he stops, nodding his head towards someone walking only a few yards away.

It’s Balthazar—Castiel’s weird friend—and I rush forward, grabbing the kid by the scruff and praying to God he lies. “Where’s Cas?” I snap, hating the sick thrill I get when his eyes widen in horror. He doesn’t answer for a moment, struck silent from what I can only think of as terror. I lean in closer, baring my teeth and narrowing my eyes as I practically snarl. “Where the _fuck_ is Cas?”

He shakes like a leaf, his eyes bouncing around behind me, letting me know the guys are there, ready to beat this pathetic piece of shit into a bloody mess if he refuses to answer.

“G-greenhouse!” He practically shouts—loud enough for everyone to hear. _Fuck_. He squeezes his eyes shut and cowers away. “ _Please don’t hurt me!_ ” I toss him to the ground and step over him as my heart lodges in my throat. I hope to God he’s lying, but, fuck, what if he’s not?

I walk purposefully onward on shaky legs, though I’m not sure what my purpose is, or if I can even manage to act out the team’s purpose. No, scratch that, I _know_ I can’t, and my stomach twists harder; my chest aching and my lungs starting to shrivel up inside me.

We push through the doors of the greenhouse and step inside, seeing that it’s wonderfully, blessedly _empty_. Except… _fuck me_ …except for the head of dark hair peeking over the counter where Cas kneels in the dirt. My heart drops right to my shoes and I gag, swallowing it back hurriedly as Lucas looks at me from the corner of his eye. I just shake my head and step forward with everyone following behind me.

I flinch when Zach lashes out, his boot connecting with Cas’s side before I see him move. Cas cries out as he falls to the side, his eyes wide and terrified in an eerily familiar expression. I hate it. I hate it so fucking much and I can barely stop myself from knocking Zach’s teeth in. It must show on my face—there’s no way it doesn’t—but any concern for my own image is brushed aside as they close in on him. First Michael, pulling him up by the front of his sweater and laying into him over and over while he cries out in pain.

I’m frozen; too horrified to move as he struggles to meet my gaze while Michael’s foot connects with his stomach, doubling him over. Every muscle throbs, begging me to do something— _anything_ —to make them stop hurting him.

Blood and spit run down his chin. _Or maybe you could just tell them to stop._ Cas’s words from so long ago whisper in my ear, the same as we whispered them in that hospital room. I squeeze my eyes tight, warring with myself—with the _me_ that would let this happen and the _me_ that…that _loves_ Cas.

I open my eyes again and they lock on blue, terrified ones. “Stop!” I yell and shove myself forward until I’m beside Cas where he kneels in the dirt, newly bruised and bloody. His bottom lip quivers and I clench my teeth, shaking my head once. He can’t cry—it’ll just make things worse. I turn to face my team, moving a hand into Cas’s hair with the guise of holding him up, but my hands don’t grip too tightly.

His cheek rests against my thigh, blood staining my jeans from his split lip as he sags against me, still so trusting.

I steel my features, hardening my face into an impenetrable mask to look back at my friends. “This is between Cas and I—let me deal with it.” I grind my molars as my heart thunders in my chest. _Please, God, let them back down…_

Lucas tilts his head to the side, a sadistic smirk curving his lips. “Really? ‘Cause the way I see it, this is between all of us. You can’t play tonight, remember? That hurts us, too.” My fists clench for half a second until Cas whimpers and I soften my grip.

“ _I_ failed the final—”

“Because of Castiel,” he drawls, taking a leisurely step forward. “Why shouldn’t we fuck him over like he fucked us?”

It’s the gleam in his eyes that tips me off, and every muscle in my body locks up. No. _No_ , no fucking way. I look down at Cas and he seems to realize it too as he stares up at me from behind those fucking glasses, his skin already darkening with bruises, stained with blood.

I can’t let this happen. Not to Cas— _my_ Cas—but I _know_ they won’t stop. No matter what I say or do, this has nothing to do with any perceived _payback_ on my behalf. They were always going to do this; me failing the test was just an excuse.

_I can’t. They’d never listen_. My reply to Cas so long ago. Now, more than ever, do I realize just how true that was.

I close my eyes and clench my jaw, praying to anyone who’s listening that Cas will be okay. When I open my eyes again, I look down at Cas—his big, trusting, blue eyes—and remove my hand from his hair. I watch as panic surges through him as I take off his glasses, a silent plea not to watch.

With my heart in my throat, I shake my head and look back at the guys. “I don’t want any part of this.” It’s ground out through my teeth as I step away from Cas, his glasses clenched in my fist. His broken whimper feels like a physical blow but I need to go. I need to get help.

_Then_ make _them listen!_

Every part of me screams to take Cas with me as I push past Lucas, hating the sick gleam in his eyes as he watches me go. Fuck, he knows what I’m doing and it only takes until the door closes behind me before it happens.

I drop Cas’s glasses, whipping around as soon as the door slams shut and plowing my fist through Carter’s face. He drops like a bag of rocks, out with one punch. My heart kicks in my chest as an arm wraps around my throat, holding me in a chokehold for only a few seconds before I break loose, grabbing Adam by the shirt and landing punch after punch, throwing everything I have into it as every nerve in my body tells me to _get away, get away, get away!_

It’s too late—I know it is. There’s too many of them and pain explodes in my jaw as knuckles connect, knocking me to the side as more fists meet their mark. I hit the ground hard, grunting as a foot connects with my side, over and over, pain rippling through me until I can hardly move.

Dread sinks into my stomach, digging in its wicked claws as a body holds me down, pressing my cheek into the cold dirt as blood trickles from my mouth. It hurts— _God_ , does it hurt—but worse than that is the pain of knowing I _failed_. Failed at the one thing I _had_ to get right.

“Listen,” a voice hisses in my ear, unrecognizable in its horridness. “Listen to your precious _Cas_.”

Fuck, I try so hard to drown him out. Drown out his _screams_. His sobbing pleas as they…as they _rape_ him. I can’t—I…this is my fault. My name reaches me on a pained cry and I _break_. My heart shattering behind my ribs, cutting through me and leaving my insides in ribbons.

My stomach revolts and I can’t keep it down this time—it’s too much. I vomit all over the ground, unable to move away from the putrid mess. All I can do is listen, no matter how hard I try to block it out. God— _Cas…I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry..._

Tears cloud my vision as my throat closes, wetness dripping from my eyes as more agonized screams pierce the air. A sob rips from my throat when my eyes lock on the shattered lenses of Cas’s reading glasses. I’ve broken him; I know I have. I did this to him—this is _my fault_ —and Cas will _never_ forgive me. _I_ will never forgive me.

Something inside me breaks—shatters into pieces when his sobbing reaches me—and I can’t take it—we’ll never recover from this. My vision goes fuzzy around the edges, steadily creeping further and further until all I can see are those fucking glasses. All I can hear is Cas’s pain.

I pass out.

 


	28. When The Walls Crumble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, here's another one. Remember to read the tags and know what you're getting into because these chapters are DARK. This isn't a light story so just be aware of that and if you have any questions, feel free to ask and I'll answer as best I can.
> 
> Wow, I can't believe there are only five chapters left after this one! It's crazy! I don't know what I'll do when I'm done with this. Maybe write more stories or maybe focus on school work. Who knows?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think in the comments!

**_December 17, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

Everything hurts. _Everything_ hurts. I don’t dare to move as they pull up their pants, laughing and chatting like they didn’t just rip me apart in every way. My face stays buried in the dirt; my prize-winning azaleas destroyed beneath my cheeks and under their boots.

After what feels like forever, they finally leave, ignoring me like the used piece of trash I am. Still, I don’t move—maybe if I wait long enough, I’ll wake up and everything will be okay. Dean will save me and none of this will ever happen.

But the searing pain in every part of me doesn’t leave and my face is still a mess of tears and blood and dirt. It hurts to move—to _breathe._ I swallow, feeling it burn all the way down. My shaking arms barely manage to push me up, getting to my knees but not daring to sit down.

I catch a rung of the stool, holding on with a white-knuckled grip as I drag myself to my feet and hastily pull up my underwear—my pants. I try to think but there’s nothing—a wall has shot up, blocking everything out.

I take a shaky step, feeling the burn between my legs as I stumble, liquid trickling down the inside of my thigh. I clench my jaw, squeeze my eyes tight, and force the vomit down.

_Don’t ruin the rest of the flowers._

I force my feet to move, one foot after the other, stepping lightly through the dirt—littered with used condoms—and swallow it all back. _Wait. Just…wait._

I trip through the doors as my stomach revolts and it all comes back up, tainted with blood. I struggle to keep my balance and stumble as pain like nothing else radiates through me in waves, crashing over me endlessly and I double over, clutching my ribs as every breath burns.

_Bathroom. Get to the bathroom._

Something catches my eye just before I start towards the school. _My glasses._ I whimper as a fist squeezes my heart, twisting painfully. He left them; tossed them aside like nothing.

No. _No!_ Don’t think about him. Just… _don’t._

I pick them up, holding them gingerly like they’re fragile. Both lenses are broken and I sigh. Broken and left behind.

I move, focussing on putting one foot in front of the other instead of the stabbing pain and the crippling thoughts that try to invade. The worst ones—the ones I can’t quite block out—have my knees threatening to buckle. Cold green eyes looking down on me. Watching him walk away—

The door is right there, within reach, when a hand lands on my shoulder and my heart lodges in my throat as I stumble, whipping around as best I can.

“Cassie…” Balthazar’s horrified eyes run over me—over the dirt and blood and…other things—staining my clothes. The look on his face is…I don’t know. I tilt my head as I wrack my brain for a name for the look on his face. Guilt, I realize—it’s guilt. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice catching in his throat. Why is he—

Every part of me hardens and I turn on my heel, pulling open the door and moving as fast as I can as I start to crumble, the walls threatening to fall and let everything come crashing in.

I start to shake.

The bathroom is empty—everyone having gone home after the final bell, excited for the weekend. I was excited, too.

I don’t recognize the person in the mirror staring back at me _._ It can’t be _me_ ; there’s too much blood. Too many cuts and bruises—his clothes are dirty and torn and he’s shaking too hard. Tracks of clean skin trail from his eye’s to his chin and I try to wipe his tears but only manage to smudge dirt on the mirror.

I look at my hands—the dirt has to be from my gardening. It _has_ to be, but the blood…

I cut myself. Yes, that’s what happened.

Pulling a few paper towels from the dispenser, I run them under warm water and gently swipe at my face, feeling the sting from open cuts as I pass over them. Dirty, bloody water swirls down the drain and I watch as it runs clear. The face in the mirror staring back at me is clean except for the cuts and bruises.

It’s worse somehow—looking at this clean face. I can see everything now. The tight lips and pale skin remind me of someone I used to know; someone I used to be. Someone I swore I would never be again _._

The eyes though…they’re the worst part. Haunted. Yes, he is _haunted_ , and God, do I want to help him, but…but somehow I think he deserves this. He did this to himself.

I drop my head, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. I need new clothes. I suddenly feel so vulnerable I could die. Every inch of my skin crawls, like a million eyes are on me but I can’t see them—only feel them. I feel dirty—they make me feel dirty.

I stumble out of the bathroom and point myself in the direction of my locker. It’s not far but it feels like forever before I reach it, my fingers trembling too hard to dial the combination and it takes me four tries before I manage to get it open. Books…books…bag…jacket.

I wrap it around myself, feeling only moderately less vulnerable. It’s not enough, but it will have to do. I pack my bag without thinking, shoving everything inside and pulling it on.

_At least Mom won’t have to come get everything. Or Gabe._

Mr. Metatron is at his desk when I get to the room. I don’t bother knocking and walk right in.

“Castiel, what can I do for you?” He glances up at me but doesn’t seem at all bothered by the bruises. I suppose he wouldn’t be—it’s not the first time I’ve shown up like this.

“Can I get my recommendation letter now?” I ask, too tired to do anything but cut to the chase.

He doesn’t even look up from the paper he’s grading this time. “That wasn’t part of our deal.”

“Yes…yes, it was. I tutor Dean Winchester and you write me a recommendation letter—”

“No, Dean passes my final and I write you a recommendation letter. Dean failed, Castiel.” I feel the last kernel of hope inside me shrivel up and die, and suddenly…it’s all too much—too much hurt and too much effort. I’m done. I turn without a word, stopping just inside the door when I hear him speak. “Maybe next time you’ll do better. The boys might not be so hard on you, then.”

I don’t respond, continuing down the hall and out the door. _There won’t be a next time,_ I think. _I’ve had enough._

 

I don’t remember walking home. Don’t remember much of anything between the greenhouse and Mr. Metatron's classroom. It’s all a blur.

The house is dark when I walk in. No one is home. No one is _ever_ home. I take the stairs slowly, dragging myself up and ignoring the burning as I head for the bathroom.

I lock the door behind me and don’t bother turning on the light—it doesn’t matter. The water stings my hands when I turn it on, filling the tub as I search through the cupboard under the sink for the box I stashed at the back a while ago. I never actually thought I’d make it this far—thought I would be pulling these out months ago—but here we are.

I strip out of my clothes, not daring to look in the mirror. My chest feels heavy; like the weight of the world has settled on me. _It’ll be over soon._

I wince as I lift one leg into the tub, then the other, feeling that scalding water on my skin but not really _feeling_ it. Sure, it hurts but I sink down anyway, ready for the pain to end.

It’s then that the shaking really starts, the shock finally wearing off as the walls crumble, the guilt and shame and _betrayal_ flooding in. All I can see is Dean’s back as he walks away. He didn’t fight for me like he said he would. I—I _trusted_ him. I…

Was stupid.

I fell in love with him, knowing how dangerous he is. I took a lion for a lamb, as one might say, and he ripped me to shreds.

A sob rips free before I can stop it, tearing at my brutalized throat as everything swirls around inside me. It’s like there’s a hole—just this great big hole in my chest and no matter what I do, or how _hard I try_ …nothing gets better—nothing will _ever_ get better—and I’m tired.

So tired.

The water reaches my chest now, stinging the cuts while soothing my broken ribs. _It doesn’t matter. None of this matters._

I squeeze my eyes shut as I gasp; horrible, broken sounds filling the bathroom as I adjust the blade in my hand. I let everything hit me—every horrible thing that’s ever happened to me—and I give in. I dig the razor blade deep into my wrist and drag it down. My heart pounds, telling me to stop with every beat. I don’t stop. I don’t _want_ to stop.

_“We’ll figure something out.”_

_“I don’t want you to have to worry about it.”_

_“It’ll be okay.”_

But it’s not okay and I should have worried; I should have known better.

The water bleeds red around me and I’m gasping for breath, my eyes blurring as tears stream down my cheeks and I bite down on my quivering lip hard enough to draw blood. Hopelessness turns to relief—It’s almost over.

I move to the other wrist, doing the same to it as I did to the other. My hands shake harder but I don’t feel the pain. I feel so weak and the water keeps getting redder the longer I sit. What a horrible colour—like the ink in my pens. Mean and angry and _painful._

But there’s no pain anymore. I gasp and sob and _hurt_ but those things are gone, too. Instead, there’s just Dean.

He’s not walking away yet—just looking down at me, his eyes cold, and his hand slips from my hair. I know that’s it—he’s not going to fight for me. He won’t take me with him. I hate him. I _hate_ him. But I love him. I hate _me_ for loving him.

It’s okay though—it’s all over now. My heartbeats sound in my ears, sluggish and relenting, and my head pounds urgently. I ignore it. This is the only way. The only way… I never have to feel the pain. I never have to see Dean again. Part of me mourns the loss, but it’s okay—it’s almost over.

I close my eyes and force myself to think of something happy—something good. Something with _Dean._

His laugh rings in my ears as we sing along to _Fast Car,_ flying down some back road and smiling like nothing can touch us. Like we would last forever, holding on tight to each other like this life is infinite and the world is kind.

A frail smile cracks my lips as I slip under the water because life is not infinite and the world is anything but kind. For a time, though, it felt like it was. It felt like it with him.

_You’ve got a fast car, I’ve got a plan to get us outta here…_

 

**_January 23, 2018_ **

_DEAN_

They hit me like a truck, coming so fast and so sudden that my head spins, crushing me under the weight of what I did. I push myself off the floor on shaky legs, moving for the door before I’ve decided to leave.

I don’t even bother grabbing my jacket, just barely remembering to lock up before running for the Impala. The drive home is a blur as every horrible memory plays on a loop, clawing at my insides and choking me with guilt and pain—so much _pain_ I can hardly stand it.

Why the hell didn't Cas warn me? Or, at the very least, give me some indication of what happened to him? _Anything_ would’ve made this more bearable.

I shove through my front door with my heart in my throat and ignore everyone that jumps out at me, yelling _surprise!_ Instead, I watch the smile fall from Cas’s face when I grab his arm and drag him down the hall to our room.

“Dean! What happened?” I slam the door behind us before resting my forehead on the wood, squeezing my eyes tight to block out the images of _his_ eyes. The panic and fear—the gut-wrenching _betrayal._ I try to wrap my head around it, but the more I push, the more twisted up it all gets until everything is just one big _mess._

“I could ask you the same fucking thing.” I don’t look at him—I can’t. Silence meets me for a moment before his hand lands on my shoulder. I flinch, pulling away with a hiss as my stomach rolls.

“What are you _talking_ about?” The confusion in his voice does nothing to calm me down and I whip around, glaring at his startled face as he takes a step back.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” I shout, my muscles locking up and my fists clenching at my sides. It’s irrational, I know, but the _pain…_ it’s too much all at once and I can’t stop it, so I let it all out as anger bubbles up inside. “I had no idea what happened to you and—and you just…you let me remember on my own? Why the _hell_ didn’t you warn me?” My voice shakes and I shove my hands through my hair. I’m drowning in this guilt and there’s no one to blame but me. This is _my_ fault.

He pins me to the spot with narrowed eyes, his jaw ticking as his own anger builds. This isn’t how today was supposed to go. It was supposed to be nice—why can’t it just be _nice?_ “I wanted to move past it.” He stares me down with icy eyes, refusing to give me any more of an explanation than that.

“ _Why?_ ” I grate out, clenching my teeth so hard my jaw starts to aches with the effort to hold back words I know I’ll regret.

“The past is the past,” he says like he didn’t hold me accountable for _months_.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Did you want me to find out this way?” I raise an eyebrow but narrow my eyes. The very thought that he would has my heart sinking to the floor. _Did you want me to suffer?_ “I have a right to know, Castiel.”

“Fine, you want to know why?”

I nod, steeling myself as he takes a step forward, an angry flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks as he glares. “

I don’t _forgive_ you! You left me there! You _knew_ what they would do to me and you—you _left_ me.” My stomach flips as my face pinches up in confusion. I didn’t _just_ _leave._ I open my mouth to tell him just that, but he’s not finished. “I was _raped_ , Dean, by my _family_ , and you walked out on me. Do you remember that? Or is that still conveniently forgotten?”

His words hit me like a slap in the face and hurt mixes with anger to clench sickeningly in my gut. “You think I _want_ to forget it all?” God, does he really think that? “I went to get _help_ and I was _attacked—_ they followed me out and beat me to the ground. I—” I choke on the words, biting my lip as my throat burns with tears. “They made me _listen,_ Cas. I had to _listen_ to you screaming.” The whispered words rip from my throat as the memory tears at my lungs and squeezes my heart.

“I’m supposed to believe that?” He crosses his arms over his chest, so closed off from me that I don’t even recognize him anymore.

“You really think that little of me?”

“You made it really hard to think anything else.” His words hit me like a blow and it’s all I can do to stay standing as he cocks his head to the side. He’s a stranger to me; unrecognizable as _my_ Cas anymore. This one is hard—bitter and cold—incapable of love because of the damage I’ve done.

Old instincts kick in and I shut down, burying my emotions deep inside where no one can touch them and nod once, my eyes glued to the floor for a moment before meeting his again. “I think you should go.” My voice is steady and the words hang in the silence that follows as I watch Cas. His mask slips for the briefest moment, showing me his pain.

His jaw clenches a few times and he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he nods, pushing past me without another word.

The front door slams across the house a few seconds later and I flinch, my eyes closing as I struggle for every breath. I’m frozen in place, not daring to move even a muscle—if I move, it’ll make this real, and if it’s real, it’ll break me. I _can’t_ break—not again.

I don’t bother with everyone in the living room—they can stay or leave, I don’t care as long as they leave me alone—closing and locking my bedroom door. I stand there for I don’t know how long as the adrenaline wears off and then I’m tired—so ridiculously tired…

I drop face first onto my bed and close my eyes. I’ll call Cas in the morning, but right now, I need sleep.

 

I jerk awake, rubbing one eye as the other flicks around the room before landing on my alarm clock. The red letters blink at me—1:43 am, so that’s not what woke me. It’s not my phone, either—though the screen is lit up with a number of missed calls.

My pager beeps away on the nightstand and I pick it up, squinting in the dark as I read what it says.

My whole world screeches to a halt when I see the address written on the tiny screen.


	29. Hurts Like Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Here's the next chapter! Only three left! That's insane! Anyway, let me know what you think!

 

**_December 17, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

There’s about half a second between unconsciousness and opening my eyes where I’m blissfully unaware of anything going on around me.

Then it hits me like a truck.

I jerk up on the bench and immediately regret it as every part of me screams out in pain. I look around me, seeing that I’m in the back of the Impala, but I have no memory of how I got here. Pulling my spare bottle of whiskey out from under the seat and cracking the seal, I take a long swig before wiping my mouth. My hands shake as I re-screw the cap and—

_Fuck. Shit!_

Cas. I need to find Cas. Throwing open the door, I practically dive out, the keys falling to the ground. I pick them up, not bothering to do more than close the door before I’m sprinting to the greenhouse, ignoring the pain radiating through me and focussing on the soul-crushing _dread_ that consumes me.

I throw open the door when I get there but it’s empty. Dark and utterly _empty._ Turning in circles, it sinks in for the first time that it’s _dark_ outside _._ I’ve probably been out for _hours_ and Cas is long gone, not even his glasses are left here.

Panic starts to swell inside me as it suddenly becomes very hard to breathe. I gasp for air, my lungs screaming at me even as my ribs protest and I double over, hanging my head between my arms as I squeeze my eyes tight, swallowing hard as I grind my molars together. _I need to find him._

Tell him I tried to get help. Tell him I didn’t leave him.

“Dean Winchester? That you?” I swallow hard, straightening up as I open my eyes and glare at the tiny redhead. She doesn’t flinch away though, staring me down with narrowed eyes.

“Who the hell’s asking?” I snap, my patience, long gone. She just rolls her eyes.

“Friend of Castiel’s. Have you seen him? He was supposed to help me practice for my chess tournament tomorrow.” My eyebrows shoot up and my hackles rise.

“Haven’t met a friend of Cas’s worth knowing,” I snap, deciding I’ve had enough of this conversation. I hurry as best I can to the Impala, half limping and wincing with every step. She follows, though, watching closely as I take another pull from the bottle in my hand as my stomach rolls dangerously. I glare at her over the roof of the Impala when she stops on the other side.

“I’m coming.”

“No, you’re _not._ ” I get in and she follows, sliding into the passenger’s seat and not taking _no_ for an answer. “Get the _fuck_ out of my car,” I growl, swallowing back a quarter of the bottle before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Hopefully, that’ll numb me enough so I can drive.

“I’m coming with you.” She reaffirms her claim by bucking her seatbelt and crossing her arms over her chest, her jaw set stubbornly as she glares.

“Like hell you are.”

She doesn’t budge though, and I’m in too much pain to force her out, so I swallow another quarter of the bottle, hissing when it burns my throat and dribbles down my chin. She eyes the almost empty bottle but doesn’t say anything as I shift into reverse and back out of the parking space.

I pull out my phone and dial Cas’s number, listening to it ring and ring before I get his voicemail. I call again, and again it rings out. “C’mon Cas!” I growl, dialing again as I drive. I can feel her eyes on the side of my head but I don’t care, too worried about Cas and my own pain—which gets better and better every passing minute. I take another swig as the edges of my vision go fuzzy, the pain easing to a dull throb.

Something like unease trickles through me, cooling my veins with icy fear. Something’s not right—more than just the earlier trauma—I can feel it.

The whiskey goes down smoother with every drink, numbing my body but nothing else. My heart hammers in my chest as my stomach twists and I dial Cas’s number again—get his voicemail again.

The drive to Cas’s house from the school isn’t a short one and by the time we get there, my head is swimming and my teeth feel numb. My eyes droop dangerously but I keep driving, only swerving a little every once in a while.

A heavy dose of fear floods me when we get to Cas’s street and it’s blocked off, police cars and an ambulance blocking the way. I pull Baby over on the curb and throw my door open, not waiting for the redhead and not really caring if she follows. With the bottle clutched in my fist, I stumble to his front yard just as a stretcher is wheeled out the front door. My heart sinks to my shoes. That can’t…it can’t—no that…that’s not—

No. It _can’t_ be Cas. I told him it would be okay. I—I told him I’d figure it out.

My bottom lip quivers and I bite it _hard_ but it’s no use. Cas is…Cas is—is _gone._ His brother is on the grass, holding their mother in his arms and they’re…they’re _crying._

I don’t even notice I’m shaking until I bring the bottle to my lips, sloshing it everywhere as I swallow the rest of it down. Tears well in my eyes, fall down my cheeks, and this pain…God, the _pain._ My knees buckle under me and I drop to the ground, not feeling the skin on my knees break, and plant my hands on the sidewalk. There’s not enough air— _I can’t breathe._ I gasp and choke for air but I _can’t breathe._ It’s like someone’s reaching down my throat and clawing at my insides. Tearing me apart and leaving me in shreds.

The most horrible sounds cut through the air and I realize they’re coming from me; sobs ripping from my throat as everything inside me breaks. _I_ did this to him. This is _my_ fault.

“What am supposed to _do,_ Cas? What do I _do?_ ” The words come out on a sob, tearing at my heart as pain like nothing else in the world consumes me. Cas is _gone._

“Dean?” The redhead is only a few feet away, watching me warily. I push myself up on shaky legs as sorrow overwhelms me, blanking out everything else. I’m _drowning._

With an agonized yell, I hurl the empty bottle at the ground, watching it shatter into a million tiny pieces. “What do I do?” I shove my hands in my hair, gripping hard enough to feel. I don’t want to do this anymore—not without Cas. Not like this.

“Dean, what _happened_?” Her imploring voice reaches me and I face her, her face blurring through tears and alcohol.

“It’s all my fault.”

“ _What_ is?”

“I broke him. Like everything else I love, I _broke_ him.” The fist wrapped around my heart squeezes tighter, a hole opening up in my chest, and all I can do is take it. _I don’t want to do this anymore._

I stumble back to my car, the girl following close behind me. “Wait, wait, wait…you _love_ him?”

“‘Course I do.” My eyes meet hers across the top of the Impala and I know she can see it all—every feeling I have laid bare in front of her. “You can’t come with me.”

She starts to protest but I cut her off.

“You _can’t_ come with me.” It sounds more like a plea than a demand, and I think that’s what gets her.

She nods, stepping away from the car.

I get in and blink away my tears as I pull out onto the road. I don’t look over when I pass Cas’s house, focussing on getting myself out of here.

The hole in my chest throbs as I race for the highway, my foot pressing harder on the gas as I pull out my phone, dialing Sam’s number. With the phone pressed to my ear, I wipe away the tears on my cheeks. It’s no use, really—they just keep coming.

“Dean, what the hell—”

“Sammy,” I whisper, my voice is rough. From drinking or crying, I don’t know. “Sammy, I’m…I think I'm done.”

“Are you drunk?”

I don’t answer, just press my foot down harder as Cas’s laugh invades my mind. _Fuck._ I’ll never hear it again. “He’s—he’s _gone_ and it’s m-my fault.” The words get squeezed off at the end and I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood.

“Dean, _who_?”

“Cas!” I shout, his name burning my throat. It’s _Cas—_ it’s _always_ Cas. “There’s so much pain, Sammy, and it _hurts._ ” I blink tears from my eyes and they run down my cheeks, dripping onto my shirt as I grip the steering wheel harder. The car still swerves, though, veering into the other lane as his screams ring in my ears. “Blue was supposed to be _happy,_ you know? But it’s _not._ ” I clench my teeth as waves of pain wash over me. Soul deep _pain._ The kind you can’t fix. The kind that takes everything you have to give. “Blue is _sadness_ and it _hurts._ And—and _red,_ ” I take a gasping breath but it does nothing to clear my head. “ _Red_ was supposed to be pain, right? But it’s not. Red is love and blue is sadness and now I have both and it hurts so bad, Sammy.” I sniffle loudly, clenching my jaw and fighting so hard against… _everything_. “And with Mom and Dad gone. And _you…_ He was the good thing, you know? The good thing that kept all the bad away—that made it all…bearable, if not better.” I shake my head, a whole new kind of pain digging its claws in. I’m done. I don’t want to do it anymore. “And—and now…he’s _gone_ and _everything’s_ bad and I just—”

“Calm down!” I can hear his panic, though—how do I calm down when he can’t? “Listen to me, I need you to tell me where you are.”

But I’m not listening. I can’t because Cas’s voice is in my ears, playing his laughter on a loop, but all I see are his eyes—panicked and betrayed—when I pulled away from him. Then the laughter stops and it’s his screams. God, the _screams._ Every one guts me—ripping me to shreds and I try—fuck, do I _try—_ to shove them back but they won’t go, haunting me and reminding me of just how helpless I am.

“I love you, Sammy.”

“No, Dean—”

“I’ll see later.” My phone falls from my hand, landing on the bench beside me as Sam yells my name. All my fight is gone—drained out of me. Cas…he was my lifeline and now…now he’s gone too and I just…there’s no point. It’s too much pain for one lifetime and I’m done.

Lights blind me from the opposite direction and I breathe a sigh of relief. _It’s almost over._ My eyes close as the vice grip on my heart tightens and at the very last moment my hands jerk the wheel to the left and I let go.

“Cas,” I whisper, tears streaking down my cheeks. A horn blares. “I’m sorry.” There’s shattering glass and blinding pain—metal crunching and twisting—then nothing at all as the world falls away _._

 

**_January 23, 2019_ **

_CASTIEL_

It’s dark out—late—by the time I get home, having walked around for hours trying to burn off my anger. I shove through the back door, my hands shaking and my face numb from the cold, but still irrationally, explosively _angry_. _God, he makes me so mad!_ I don’t bother locking the door before stomping up the stairs and throwing _that_ door open wide and slamming it behind me.

My shoes fly across the room before I realize I’m kicking them off, and I pace. From one end of the room to the other. Back and forth. Every bit of pain and anger I’ve ever felt in regards to Dean Winchester surge to the forefront of my mind and as hard as I try, I can’t force it back, going over every word and every action until my mind whirls in confusion.

I don’t forgive him—it sinks into my bones as I move across the room. I _can’t._ Not now—maybe not ever—not while there’s still the possibility that he’s lying about going for help. Did he try to go for help? Did he _really_? Part of me—a very small part—doesn’t want to believe it because that means I wasted so much time. Time I could’ve had with him. But, somehow the idea that he just walked away doesn’t quite fit anymore. It never really did if I think about it.

I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes, falling onto the couch and burying my head in my hands. My heartbeat slows as the adrenaline seeps out of my body and rational thought starts creeping back in as I _really_ think about it.

Even though everything else in my head is a mess, there’s one thing I know for certain: Dean Winchester loved me— _loves_ me. He was angry and upset and insecure and broken…but he loved me with all his heart, even if he never said the words.

I think back to that moment—the one that haunts my nightmares—and picture the coldness in his eyes as he let me go.

But what about before that? Just seconds before that? I’ve never thought about that moment before; it never occurred to me that something was there, but I think about it now.

My palms dig into my eye sockets as my stomach does a flip. I remember his eyes were soft and wide and…and wet. He had swallowed hard as his face crumpled only a little—just enough for me to catch it. His fingers stroked lightly through my hair…

He was breaking. His _heart_ was breaking.

For so long, I held on to the fact that he had walked away, using it to protect myself and guard myself—to not forgive him because he made a choice to _leave_ me, but…he didn’t. He went for help and even though it never came…he knew he couldn’t handle them on his own so _he went for help._

Dean Winchester doesn’t ask for help, but for me, he tried. It doesn’t make it better. Nothing will make what happened better, but Dean…he _tried_.

I heave a heavy sigh and drag myself up, intending to head for the bathroom when the photo album on my bed catches my eye. With a rueful smile, I pick it up and flip to the photo Dean showed me earlier.

I can’t help but stare at his face. Would he still be smiling like that if he knew what was coming? I pull the photo from the sleeve on a whim, looking up at the bookshelf where the photo of Dean and I at Christmas sits. I tuck it into the frame with a small smile, deciding I want to keep it. I nod once before heading to the bathroom, stripping as I go—I’ll pick up the clothes later. Turning on the shower as hot as I can stand it, I step in, ignoring everything for the time being as I tip my head back under the stream and close my eyes.

As hard as I try, pushing Dean to the back of my mind doesn’t work, and by the time the water runs cold, I’ve decided we both need to think things through—sleep on it. It must be almost midnight since it was just after eight-thirty when I left Dean’s house. I’ll call Dean in the morning. I nod to myself even as a weight settles in my bones.

God, I hate this. I’m just so tired…like I could sleep for the rest of my life and it still wouldn’t be enough. I need a long, death-like sleep to just…take me away. Away from the pain and the doubt and just…everything.

With a heavy sigh and a sinking feeling that it's never going to get any better, I open the door, letting the cloud of steam waft into the open space as I wrap the towel around my waist, fiddling with it as I walk out.

I hit the floor before I know what’s happened, pain exploding across my cheek as a shout bursts from me. For a moment, I’m too shocked to move, scrambling to keep the towel wrapped around my waist as a boot lands in my stomach, forcing the air from my lungs as I curl into myself, my heart kicking in my chest.

I search the room wildly, my eyes landing on three dark figures, and my heart leaps into my throat as the man in front of me smirks, winding his foot back again before landing a blow to my ribs.

A cry escapes my lips when I feel it crack under his boot but he doesn’t stop, kicking over and over until blood spills on the floor and I whimper, flinching with every movement.

“Castiel Novak,” one of the others says, drawing out every syllable as he saunters closer, coming into the light that streams through the still un-curtained window. Every muscle in my body freezes when I see his face.

Crowley.

The one with the boots reaches for me, dragging me up to my knees by my hair as Crowley gets closer. It burns but I don’t dare to struggle, knowing it’ll only make it worse. Boots moves behind me, pulling my arms back and pinning them between my shoulder-blades with his free hand. I jerk against his holding and only succeed in pissing him off. He lets go of my hair only long enough to force me forward, smashing my face into the floor. I groan, blood gushing from my broken nose as my eyes water.

Crowley crouches down in front of me, his beady eyes never leaving mine as I'm forced to stare straight ahead, the hand moving back into my hair and pulling my head up. I wince.

His hand snaps up, gripping my cheeks so tight that my teeth cut into the insides of my mouth. He studies my face, tilting my head back and forth as his smirk grows. “It’s him alright.”

“What do you want?” The words are slurred past my swollen lips, blood bubbling down my chin when I speak.

Crowley doesn’t answer me, looking back to the one still standing by the door instead. “Good work, Azazel.” When his eyes turn back to mine, my stomach drops. “Did you really think you could pull one over on me? _Me?_ The _King of Hell?_ ” The gang name, though unoriginal, is not unfamiliar and my blood turns to ice at the implications the name carries.

I ache all over as blood drips to the floor, my body screaming at me to get away as panic starts creeping in, slithering through my veins and lodging in my throat.

He shoves me away and I hit the ground hard when my hair and arms are released. I try to push myself up—to fight back—only to be kicked in the side, sending me sprawling across the floor. A groan tumbles from my chest and I clutch my ribs and scramble away, but he follows, grabbing my hair again and hauling me up before laying into me.

“Please,” I whimper, trembling all over. The pain…It’s _searing_ —engulfing every part of me and still, he won’t stop.

“I run this neighborhood. This is _my_ territory and I will do as I _please!_ ” He waves at the other man, Azazel, who immediately joins the one hitting me. “And when I’m having trouble with an _employee_ I will deal with it as I so _choose._ ” He’s looking at my bookshelf; at the pictures of Dean and I. “Alistair.” The shift in his voice sends my heart racing as the man with the boots joins Crowley when he flicks a commanding finger. Azazel drags me closer, pinning me to the floor with a knee on my chest. I gasp, crying out as a rib digs into my lungs. "This that Winchester boy?”

“Yes, Sir, that's Dean.” My heart shrivels as everything inside me revolts. No. No, not Dean. Leave Dean. Anyone but _Dean._

“My understanding is the Winchester lost you _both_ some money? Is that right?” They both nod and my heart sinks. Something tickles the back of my mind. A name…Alistair. It’s familiar but I don’t know where from.

I don’t see the boot until it hits my nose, connecting with a sickening _crunch_ as more blood gushes down my face, coating my mouth and chin as my head whips to the side. My head spins, the room tilting dangerously as my stomach heaves.

“Do you know who loses money when they do, Castiel? _Me,_ and I don’t like losing money.”

“Please…” I whimper, my head lolling to the side as my eye swells shut—the pounding in my skull intensifying. Azazel’s knee presses down harder and I cough, blood and spit dripping down my chin.

“Please, what?” Azazel’s face is right in mine, his yellow eyes shining bright with a sick satisfaction. I don’t respond, clenching my jaw shut and ignoring the ache. If I say his name, they’ll go after him. If I say his name…I can’t say his name.“Please, _what?_ ” A hand closes around my throat and my eyes pop open as it squeezes, cutting off my airway as he leans forward, pressing harder and harder. I claw at his fingers, trying to rip them away, but it’s no use. He just holds on tighter as strangled, desperate noises escape me.

“Come on now, play nice.” Crowley doesn’t even look over, flicking through the pages in the photo album from his perch on my bed. Azazel lets up. “We won’t touch your precious Dean.”

I sag as my eyes fall shut, overwhelmed with relief.

“Winchesters don’t much care about themselves; losing you will hurt him far worse than anything I could do to him.” It takes a minute for his words to sink in, but when they do, I panic, thrashing and clawing at Azazel as he presses down harder, my whole body screaming for me to stop as clotting cuts tear open again and fresh blood runs onto the floor.

I don’t see Crowley move but suddenly Azazel stands and there’s a bat in his hand. Alistair has one too and I try to crawl away but only manage to claw at the hardwood floor before a scream is ripped from me when the first blow hits, landing on my knee and shattering my kneecap before doing the same to the other.

I scream louder, my throat raw, as I curl into myself. It does me no good though, their hits raining down one after another, like a rhythm only they have mastered, breaking bones and tearing skin until I’m trembling on the floor, in too much pain to move. Even breathing sears my lungs and blood bubbles in my throat, choking me as I lay face down on the floor, struggling to stay conscious to call…someone—anyone—after they leave.

“Finish up here; I’ll be next door,” I hear Crowley say before leaving. “Remember! No mess!” It’s called out from the stairwell, echoing with his heavy steps.

I look through the eye that’s not swollen shut—even then everything is blurry—and with trembling fingers, I reach for the picture frame only about a foot away. My fingers catch the edge and I drag it closer, just barely glimpsing Dean’s smiling face before a boot crushes my hand, grinding into the bone as my eyes water, a scream cut off in my throat.

“Please don’t take it, please don’t take it, please…” But the words are no more than a movement of my lips, soundless even to my own ears.

“You want this?” I can’t see his face—can’t even lift my head to watch as he smashes the windows and tosses the picture frame through the bars to the street below—only his boots as he walks away. “Too fucking bad.”

I close my eyes and try to draw comfort from somewhere deep inside and my mind naturally strays to Dean.

He’ll be sound asleep now, oblivious to the world. If only I could call him—hear his voice one more time—then I would be alright, I think. I could tell him I love him; that I’m sorry and I forgive him.

Emotion claws at my throat as I’m splashed with something—gasoline—and I know this is it.

I ache for more time—more life with Dean. I want to go on our trip and spend Valentine’s day together and laugh at all his stupid jokes and just…love him. Forget about everything and _love_ him.

I can hear them opening cupboards, tossing things out and flipping things over. My bookshelf is upended—books torn apart as they toss things around, dousing the couch cushions, my bed, and everything in between in gasoline before finally, _finally_ leaving, dropping a lighter on the bed before dragging my couch out the door and blocking the stairs.

I watch the flames lick across the sheets for a moment, hearing them downstairs as they destroy the shop before dragging myself inch by painful inch to my jeans only a few feet away. I bite my lip to hold back any sounds, my fingers shaking as I dig through the pockets and pull out my phone; blood smearing over the screen as I struggle to get it unlocked. The fire spreads fast, climbing the walls and spreading through the apartment even as my trembling hands dial Dean’s number, listening to it ring again and again before going to voicemail.

“Come on, Dean,” I whisper, trying again as tears well in my eyes and drip to the floor. Voicemail. I press call again, holding the phone to my ear as it rings.

_He’s ignoring me._ Once the thought hits me, I can’t shake it. Why wouldn’t he? I said horrible things to him—unforgivable things—and he has every reason to not want to talk to me.

_I need you to pick up._

The smoke in the air thickens and I cough, choking on the blood in my mouth as I fight to breathe. My muscles spasm as I’m wracked with painful tremors, the heat of the flames prickling against my skin, but I keep dialing, praying to any God who will listen. _Pick up, pick up, pick up._

I hear sirens in the distance as the crackling of the flames gets louder, almost drowning out the ringing. There’s an orange light bathing everything and I cough harder as the air thickens, blood dripping onto the floor as I choke on spit and smoke.

After what feels like forever, Dean’s voice comes over the line. “I got a page, is everything alright? You forget to turn off the stove again?” He chuckles but I can hear the tension in it—the concern he fights so hard to hide.

“Dean,” I choke out, my lungs burning as they fill with smoke. “Dean, I—”

“Cas?” There it is—the panic in his voice, letting me know he knows. I hear the roar of the Impala as he hits the gas. “Cas, where are you?” His voice shakes as the flames grow higher around me—hotter. His fear spikes my own and my heart punches at my ribs, my head pounding relentlessly as my stomach heaves again.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my throat thick. My voice trembles as more tears spill down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

For a moment there’s nothing but the sounds of traffic on the other end—horns blaring and the roar of the Impala. “No,” he chokes, his voice breaking. “No, Cas, you…you can’t—”

“I love you,” I croak, feeling the flames on my back. I hold back a whimper and close my eyes. “I forgive you.”

“Cas? Cas, we’re gonna get you out. We will, so just hang on—” But I know they won’t. I know it and he knows it. This is goodbye.

“I—I love you,” I say again before more coughing seizes me, rattling my bones as a rib catches a lung and more blood taints my lips. Dean yells over the noise. He’s panicking, I know—this might just break him—and I wish, more than anything, that he wouldn’t have to feel it, but he will. He will. “It’s…okay.”

“No, no it’s not okay, Castiel! This is _not_ okay!” His voice breaks—two octaves too high—and my throat burns with more tears. I can hear the firefighters outside, shouting at one another below.

“Tell me something good…something happy.” I need him to talk—to be the voice I hear when it’s all over. I need this one last thing only he can give me.

“Um, okay, yeah. I can do that, yeah.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, sniffling loudly before continuing. “Uh, well…I was…I was going to ask you to marry me, you know? On our trip. I—I was going to take you to the beach at sunset and…” His voice catches. Breath rattles through the phone. “And g-get down on one knee, and ask you. I’ve got a ring and everything…” A small smile curves my lips as I think about it.

“Yeah? What—” Another round of coughing cuts me off and I can’t quite catch my breath after. “What—what does it…look like?”

“W-well it, it’s simple, like you’d want…” He trails off with a shuddering breath before continuing, his voice a little more strained. “White gold. It’s nice. I’m almost there, Love.”

He’s too late—they’re all too late. I can’t bring myself to say it, though, so I don’t.

“Okay…okay.” I think about Dean proposing. It’s a nice image; one I would’ve loved to experience for myself. Would I have said yes? I think about it, and it’s really no question. Of course I would have. “Yes…my answer,” I choke as more blood trickles from my mouth and down my chin—the floor is slick with it, “would’ve been y-yes, by the way.”

He doesn’t respond and now the flames lick at my ankles…my back and my hair…

“Don’t take too long,” I say, hating that it won’t matter. Hating that the last time I saw him I was angry. Hating the unfairness of this life…

“Cas?”

“Y-yes?”

“I love you.” He hiccups on the other end; an aborted sob ripped from him anyway. I close my eyes and sag into the floor, feeling every broken part of me screaming. I want to scream with it—scream about the unfairness of it all. But this is life, and so it goes.

A memory from a few weeks ago creeps in. Of smooth pebbles in the water and my lips twitch with a smile, my heart swelling with love for the man on the other end of the line, because I get it.

The smoke is impossibly thick now and I can feel my body begging for air—screaming for it—and suffocating without it.

“I know.” I suck in the smoke and the air and cough hard but speak anyway. “I…I get it n-now.”

“W-what?”

“How you…how you l-love me. I understand.” And it’s so beautiful and so very _Dean_ that I don’t know how I missed it because _of course…_

I am the pebble, his love is the water, and I am drowning in it.

There’s about half a second between unconsciousness and opening my eyes where I’m blissfully unaware of anything going on around me.

Then it hits me like a truck.

I jerk up on the bench and immediately regret it as every part of me screams out in pain. I look around me, seeing that I’m in the back of the Impala, but I have no memory of how I got here. I pull my spare bottle of whiskey out from under the seat and crack the seal, taking a long swig before wiping my mouth. My hands shake as I re-screw the cap and—

_Fuck. Shit!_

Cas. I need to find Cas. Throwing open the door, I practically dive out, the keys falling to the ground. I pick them up, not bothering to do more than close the door before I’m sprinting to the greenhouse, ignoring the pain radiating through me and focussing on the soul-crushing _dread_ that consumes me.

I throw open the door when I get there but it’s empty. Dark and utterly _empty._ Turning in circles, it sinks in for the first time that it’s _dark._ I’ve probably been out for _hours_ and Cas is long gone, not even his glasses are left here.

Panic starts to swell inside me as it suddenly becomes very hard to breathe. I gasp for air, my lungs screaming at me even as my ribs protest and I double over, hanging my head between my arms as I squeeze my eyes tight, swallowing hard as I grind my molars together. _I need to find him._

Tell him I tried to get help. Tell him I didn’t leave him.

“Dean Winchester? That you?” I swallow hard, straightening up as I open my eyes and glare at the tiny redhead. She doesn’t flinch away though, staring me down with narrowed eyes.

“Who the hell’s asking?” I snap, my patience, long gone. She just rolls her eyes.

“Friend of Castiel’s. Have you seen him? He was supposed to help me practice for my chess tournament tomorrow.” My eyebrows shoot up and my hackles rise.

“Haven’t met a friend of Cas’s worth knowing,” I snap, deciding I’ve had enough of this conversation. I hurry as best I can to the Impala, half limping and wincing with every step. She follows, though, watching closely as I take another pull from the bottle in my hand as my stomach rolls dangerously. I glare at her over the roof of the Impala when she stops on the other side.

“I’m coming.”

“No, you’re _not._ ” I get in and she follows, sliding into the passenger’s seat and not taking _no_ for answer. “Get the _fuck_ out of my car,” I growl, swallowing back a quarter of the bottle before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Hopefully, that’ll numb me enough so I can drive.

“I’m coming with you.” She reaffirms her claim by bucking her seatbelt and crossing her arms over her chest, her jaw set stubbornly as she glares.

“Like hell you are.” She doesn’t budge though, and I’m in too much pain to force her out, so I swallow another quarter of the bottle, hissing when it burns down my throat and dribbles down my chin. She eyes the almost empty bottle but doesn’t say anything as I shift into reverse and back out of the parking space.

I pull out my phone and dial Cas’s number, listening to it ring and ring before I get his voicemail. I call again, and again it rings out. “C’mon Cas!” I growl, dialing again as I drive. I can feel her eyes on the side of my head but I don’t care, too worried about Cas and my own pain—which gets better and better every minute. I take another swig from the bottle as the edges of my vision go fuzzy, the aches easing to a dull throb.

Something like unease trickles through me, cooling my veins with icy fear. Something’s not right—more than just the earlier trauma—I can feel it.

The whiskey goes down smoother with every drink, numbing my body but, unfortunately, nothing else. My heart hammers in my chest as my stomach twists. I dial Cas’s number again. Get his voicemail again.

The drive to Cas’s house from the school isn’t a short one and by the time we get there, my head is swimming and my teeth feel numb. My eyes droop dangerously but I keep driving, only swerving a little every once in a while.

A heavy dose of fear floods me when we get to Cas’s street and it’s blocked off, police cars and an ambulance blocking the way. I pull Baby over on the curb and throw my door open, not waiting for the redhead and not really caring if she follows. With the bottle clutched in my fist, I stumble to his front yard just as a stretcher is wheeled out the front door. My heart sinks to my shoes. That can’t…it can’t—no that…that’s not—

No. It _can’t_ be Cas. I told him it would be okay. I—I told him I’d figure it out. My bottom lip quivers and I bite it _hard_ but it’s no use. Cas is…Cas is—is _gone._ His brother is on the grass, holding their mother in his arms and they’re…they’re _crying._

I don’t even notice I’m shaking until I bring the bottle to my lips, sloshing it everywhere as I swallow the rest of it down. Tears well in my eyes, fall down my cheeks, and this pain…God, the _pain._ My knees buckle under me and I drop to the ground, not feeling the skin on my knees break, and plant my hands on the sidewalk. There’s not enough air— _I can’t breathe._ I gasp and choke for air but I can’t _breathe._ It’s like someone’s reaching down my throat and clawing at my insides. Tearing me apart and leaving me in shreds.

The most horrible sounds cut through the air and I realize they’re coming from me, sobs ripping from my throat as everything inside me breaks. _I_ did this to him. This is _my_ fault.

“What am supposed to _do,_ Cas? What do I _do?_ ” The words come out on a sob, tearing at my heart as pain like nothing else in the world consumes me. Cas is _gone._

“Dean?” The redhead is only a few feet away, watching me warily. I push myself up on shaky legs as sorrow overwhelms me, blanking out everything else. I’m _drowning._

With an agonized yell, I hurl the empty bottle at the ground, watching it shatter into a million tiny pieces. “What do I do?” I shove my hands in my hair, gripping hard enough to feel. I don’t want to do this anymore—not without Cas. Not like this.

“Dean, what _happened_?” Her imploring voice reaches me and I face her, her face blurring through tears and alcohol.

“It’s all my fault.”

“ _What_ is?”

“I broke him. Like everything else I love, I _broke_ him.” The fist wrapped around my heart squeezes tighter, a hole opening up in my chest, and all I can do is take it. _I don’t want to do this anymore._

I stumble back to my car, the girl following close behind me. “Wait, wait, wait…you _love_ him?”

“‘Course I do.” My eyes meet hers across the top of the Impala and I know she can see it all. Every feeling I have laid bare in front of her. “You can’t come with me.” She starts to protest but I cut her off. “You _can’t_ come with me.” It sounds more like a plea than a demand and I think that’s what gets her. She nods, stepping away from the car.

I get in and blink away my tears as I pull out onto the road. I don’t look over when I pass Cas’s house, focussing on getting myself out of here.

The hole in my chest throbs as I race for the highway, my foot pressing harder on the gas as I pull out my phone, dialing Sam’s number. With the phone pressed to my ear, I wipe away the tears on my cheeks. It’s no use, really—they just keep coming.

“Dean, what the hell—”

“Sammy,” I whisper, my voice is rough. From drinking or crying, I don’t know. “Sammy, I’m…I think I'm done.”

“Are you drunk?”

I don’t answer, just press my foot down harder as Cas’s laugh invades my mind. _Fuck._ I’ll never hear it again. “He’s—he’s _gone_ and it’s m-my fault.” The words get squeezed off at the end and I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood.

“Dean, _who_?”

“Cas!” I shout, his name burning my throat. It’s _Cas—_ it’s _always_ Cas. “There’s so much pain, Sammy, and it _hurts._ ” I blink tears from my eyes and they run down my cheeks, dripping onto my shirt as I grip the steering wheel harder. The car still swerves, though, veering into the other lane as his screams ring in my ears. “Blue was supposed to be _happy,_ you know? But it’s _not._ ” I clench my teeth, as waves of pain wash over me. Soul deep _pain._ The kind you can’t fix. The kind that takes everything you have to give. “Blue is _sadness_ and it _hurts._ And—and _red,_ ” I take a gasping breath but it does nothing to clear my head. “ _Red_ was supposed to be pain, right? But it’s not. Red is love and blue is sadness and now I have both and it hurts so bad, Sammy.” I sniffle loudly, clenching my jaw and fighting so hard against… _everything_. “And with Mom and Dad gone. And _you…_ He was the good thing, you know? The good thing that kept all the bad away—that made all…bearable, if not better.” I shake my head, a whole new kind of pain digging its claws in. I’m done. I don’t want to do it anymore. “And—and now…he’s _gone_ and _everything’s_ bad and I just—”

“Calm down!” I can hear his panic, though—how do I calm down when he can’t? “Listen to me, I need you to tell me where you are.” But I’m not listening. I can’t because Cas’s voice is in my ears, playing his laughter on a loop, but all I see are his eyes—panicked and betrayed—when I pulled away from him. Then the laughter stops and it’s his screams. God, the _screams._ Every one guts me—ripping me to shreds and I try—fuck, do I _try—_ to shove them back but they won’t go, haunting me and reminding me of just how helpless I am.

“I love you, Sammy.”

“No, Dean—”

“I’ll see later.” My phone falls from my hand, landing on the bench beside me as Sam yells my name. All my fight is gone—drained out of me. Cas…he was my lifeline and now…now he’s gone too and I just…there’s no point. It’s too much pain for one lifetime and I’m done.

Lights blind me, coming from the opposite direction. I breathe a sigh of relief. _It’s almost over._ My eyes close the vice grip on my heart tightens and at the very last moment my hands jerk the wheel to the left and I let go.

“Cas,” I whisper, tears streaking down my cheeks. A horn blares. “I’m sorry.” There’s shattering glass and blinding pain—metal crunching and twisting—then nothing at all as the world falls away _._

 

**_January 23, 2019_ **

_CASTIEL_

It’s dark out—late—by the time I get home, having walked around for hours trying to burn off my anger. I shove through the back door, my hands shaking and my face numb from the cold, but still irrationally, explosively _angry_. _God, he makes me so mad!_ I don’t bother to lock the door behind me, stomping up the stairs and throwing the door open wide before slamming it behind me. My shoes fly across the room before I realize I’m kicking them off, and I pace. From one end of the room to the other. Back and forth. Every bit of pain and anger I’ve ever felt in regards to Dean Winchester soar to the forefront of my mind and as hard as I try, I can’t force it back, going over every word and every action until my mind whirls in confusion.

I don’t forgive him—it sinks into my bones as I move across the room. I _can’t._ Not now—maybe not ever—not while there’s still the possibility that he’s lying about going for help. Did he try to go for help? Did he _really_? Part of me—a very small part—doesn’t want to believe it because that means I wasted so much time. Time I could’ve had with him. But, somehow the idea that he just walked away doesn’t quite fit anymore. It never really did if I think about it.

I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes, falling onto the couch and burying my head in my hands. My heartbeat slows as the adrenaline seeps out of my body and rational thought starts creeping back in as I _really_ think about it.

Even though everything else in my head is a mess, there’s one thing I know for certain: Dean Winchester loved me— _loves_ me. He was angry and upset and insecure and broken…but he loved me with all his heart, even if he never said the words. I think back to that moment—the one that haunts my nightmares—and picture the coldness in his eyes as he lets me go. What about before that? Just seconds before that? I’ve never thought about that moment before; it never occurred to me that something was there, but I think about it now.

My palms dig into my eye sockets as my stomach does a flip. I remember his eyes were soft and wide and…and wet. He had swallowed hard as his face crumpled only a little—just enough for me to catch it. His fingers stroked lightly through my hair… He was breaking. His _heart_ was breaking.

For so long, I held on to the fact that he had walked away, using it to protect myself and guard myself—to not forgive him because he made a choice to _leave_ me, but…he didn’t. He went for help and even though it never came…he knew he couldn’t handle them on his own so _he went for help._

Dean Winchester doesn’t ask for help, but for me, he tried. It doesn’t make it better. Nothing will make what happened better, but Dean…he _tried_.

I heave a heavy sigh and drag myself up, intending to head for the bathroom when the photo album on my bed catches my eye. With a rueful smile, I pick it up and flip to the photo Dean showed me earlier. I can’t help but stare at his face. Would he still be smiling like that if he knew what was coming? I pull the photo from the sleeve on a whim, looking up at the bookshelf where the photo of Dean and I at Christmas sits. I tuck it into the frame with a small smile, deciding I want to keep it. I nod once before heading to the bathroom, stripping as I go—I’ll pick the clothes up later. Turning on the shower as hot as I can stand it, I step in, ignoring everything for the time being as I tip my head back under the stream and close my eyes.

As hard as I try, pushing Dean to the back of my mind doesn’t work, and by the time the water runs cold, I’ve decided we both need to think things through—sleep on it. It must be almost midnight; it was just after eight-thirty when I left Dean’s house. I will call Dean in the morning.

God, I hate this. I’m just so tired…like I could sleep for the rest of my life and it still wouldn’t be enough. I need a long, death-like sleep to just…take me away. Away from the pain and the doubt and just…everything.

With a heavy sigh and a sinking feeling that it's never going to get any better, I open the door, letting the cloud of steam waft into the open space as I wrap the towel around my waist, fiddling with it as I walk out.

I hit the floor before I know what’s happened, pain exploding across my cheek as a shout bursts from me. For a moment, I’m too shocked to move, scrambling to keep the towel wrapped around my waist as a boot lands in my stomach, forcing the air from my lungs as I curl into myself, my heart kicking in my chest.

I search the room wildly, my eyes landing on three dark figures and my heart leaps into my throat as the man in front of me smirks, winding his foot back again before landing a blow to my ribs. A cry escapes my lips when I feel it crack under his boot but he doesn’t stop, kicking over and over until blood spills on the floor and I whimper, flinching with every movement.

“Castiel Novak,” one of the others says, drawing out every syllable as he saunters closer, coming into the light that streams through the window. Every muscle in my body freezes when I see his face.

Crowley.

The one with the boots reaches for me, dragging me up to my knees by my hair as Crowley gets closer. It burns but I don’t dare to struggle, knowing it will only make it worse. The one with the boots moves behind me, pulling my arms back and pinning them between my shoulder-blades. I jerk against his holding and only succeed in pissing him off. He lets go of my hair only long enough to force me forward, smashing my face into the floor. I cry out, blood gushing from my broken nose as my eyes water.

Crowley crouches down in front of me, his beady eyes never leaving mine as I'm forced to stare straight ahead, the hand moving back into my hair and pulling my head back. I wince.

His hand snaps up, gripping my chin so tight that my teeth cut into the insides of my mouth. He studies my face, tilting my head back and forth as his smirk grows. “It’s him alright.”

“What do you want?” The words are slurred past my swollen lips, blood bubbling down my chin when I speak.

Crowley doesn’t answer me, looking back to the one still standing by the door instead. “Good work, Azazel.” When his eyes turn back to mine, my stomach drops. “Did you really think you could pull one over on me? _Me?_ The _King of Hell?_ ” The gang name, though unoriginal, is not unfamiliar and my blood turns to ice at the implications.

I ache all over as blood drips to the floor, my body screaming at me to get away as panic starts creeping in, slithering through my veins and lodging in my throat. He shoves me away and I hit the ground hard when my hair and arms are released. I try to push myself up—to fight back—only to be kicked in the side, sending me sprawling across the floor. A groan tumbles from my chest and I clutch my ribs and scramble away, but he follows, grabbing my hair again and hauling me up before laying into me.

“Please,” I whimper, trembling all over. The pain…It’s _searing_ —engulfing every part of me and still, he won’t stop.

“I run this neighborhood. This is _my_ territory and I will do as I _please!_ ” He waves at the other man, Azazel, who immediately joins the one hitting me. “And when I’m having trouble with an _employee_ I will deal with it as I so _choose._ ” He’s looking at my bookshelf; at the pictures of Dean and I. “Alistair.” The shift in his voice sends my heart racing as the man with the boots joins Crowley when he flicks a commanding finger. Azazel drags me closer, pinning me to the floor with a knee on my chest. I gasp, crying out as a rib digs into my lungs. "This that Winchester boy?”

“Yes, Sir, that's Dean.” My heart shrivels as everything inside me revolts. No. No, not Dean. Leave Dean. Anyone but _Dean._

“My understanding is the Winchester lost you _both_ some money? Is that right?” They both nod and my heart sinks. Something tickles the back of my mind. A name…Alistair. It’s familiar but I don’t know where from.

I don’t see the boot until it hits my nose, connecting with a sickening _crunch_ as more blood gushes down my face, coating my mouth and chin as my head whips to the side. My head spins, the room tilting dangerously as my stomach heaves.

“Do you know who loses money when they do, Castiel? _Me_ and I don’t like losing money.”

“Please…” I whimper, my head lolling to the side as my eye swells shut, the pounding in my skull intensifying. Azazel’s knee presses down harder and I cough, blood and spit dripping down my chin.

“Please, what?” Azazel’s face is right in mine, his yellow eyes shining bright with a sick satisfaction. I don’t respond, clenching my jaw shut and ignoring the ache. If I say his name, they’ll go after him. If I say his name…I can’t say his name.“Please, _what?_ ” A hand closes around my throat and my eyes pop open as it squeezes, cutting off my airway as he leans forward, pressing harder and harder. I claw at his fingers, trying to rip them away, but it’s no use. He just holds on tighter as strangled, desperate noises escape me.

“Come on now, play nice.” Crowley doesn’t even look over, flicking through the pages in the photo album from his perch on my bed. Azazel lets up. “We won’t touch your precious Dean.” I sag as my eyes fall shut, overwhelmed with relief. “Winchesters don’t much care about themselves; losing you will hurt him far worse than anything I could do to him.” It takes a minute for his words to sink in, but when they do, I panic, thrashing and clawing at Azazel as he presses down harder, my whole body screaming for me to stop as clotting cuts tear open again and fresh blood runs onto the floor.

I don’t see Crowley move but suddenly Azazel stands and there’s a bat in his hand. Alistair has one too and I try to crawl away but only manage to claw at the hardwood floor before a scream is ripped from me when the first blow hits, landing on my knee and shattering my kneecap before doing the same to the other. I scream louder, my throat raw as I curl into myself. It does me no good though, their hits raining down one after another, like a rhythm only they have mastered, breaking bones and tearing skin until I’m trembling on the floor, in too much pain to move. Even breathing sears my lungs and blood bubbles in my throat, choking me as I lay face down on the floor, struggling to stay conscious to call…someone—anyone—after they leave.

“Finish up here. I’ll be next door,” I hear Crowley say before leaving. “Remember! No mess!” It’s called out from the stairwell, echoing with his heavy steps. I look through the eye that’s not swollen shut—even then everything is blurry—and with trembling fingers, I reach for the picture frame only about a foot away. My fingers catch the edge and I drag it closer, just barely glimpsing Dean’s smiling face before a boot crushes my hand, grinding into the bone as my eyes water, a scream cut off in my throat.

“Please don’t take it, please don’t take it, please…” But the words are no more than a movement of my lips, soundless even to my own ears.

“You want this?” I can’t see his face—can’t even lift my head to watch as he smashes the windows and tosses the picture frame through the bars to the street below—only his boots as he walks away. “Too fucking bad.”

I close my eyes and try to draw comfort from somewhere deep inside and my mind naturally strays to Dean.

He’ll be sound asleep now, oblivious to the world. If only I could call him—hear his voice one more time—then I would be alright, I think. I could tell him I love him; that I’m sorry and I forgive him.

Emotion claws at my throat as I’m splashed with something—gasoline—and I know this is it. I ache for more time—more life with Dean. I want to go on our trip and spend Valentine’s day together and laugh at all his stupid jokes and just…love him. Forget about everything and _love_ him.

I can hear them opening cupboards, tossing things out and flipping things over. My bookshelf is upended—books torn apart as they toss things around, dousing the couch cushions, my bed, and everything in between in gasoline before finally, _finally_ leaving, dropping a lighter on the bed before dragging my couch out the door and blocking the stairs. 

I watch the flames lick across the sheets for a moment, hearing them downstairs as they destroy the shop before dragging myself inch by painful inch to my jeans only a few feet away. I bite my lip to hold back any sounds, my fingers shaking as I dig through the pockets and pull out my phone, blood smearing over the screen as I struggle to get it unlocked. The fire spreads fast, climbing the walls and spreading through the apartment even as my trembling hands dial Dean’s number, listening to it ring again and again before going to voicemail.

“Come on, Dean,” I whisper, trying again as tears well in my eyes and drip to the floor. Voicemail. I press call again, holding the phone to my ear as it rings. _He’s ignoring me._ Once the thought hits me, I can’t shake it. Why wouldn’t he? I said horrible things to him—unforgivable things—he has every reason to not want to talk to me.

_I need you to pick up._

The smoke in the air thickens and I cough, choking on the blood in my mouth as I fight to breathe. My muscles spasm as I’m wracked with painful tremors, the heat of the flames prickling against my skin, but I keep dialing, praying to any God who will listen. _Pick up, pick up, pick up._

I hear sirens in the distance as the crackling of the flames gets louder, almost drowning out the ringing. There’s an orange light bathing everything and I cough harder, blood dripping onto the floor as I choke on spit and smoke.

After what feels like forever, Dean’s voice comes over the line. “I got a page, is everything alright? You forget to turn off the stove again?” He chuckles but I can hear the tension in it his voice—the concern he fights so hard to hide.

“Dean,” I choke out, my lungs burning as they fill with smoke. “Dean, I—”

“Cas?” There it is—the panic in his voice, letting me know he knows. I hear the roar of the Impala as he hits the gas. “Cas, where are you?” His voice shakes as the flames grow higher around me. His fear spikes my own and my heart punches at my ribs, my head pounding relentlessly as my stomach heaves again.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my throat thick. My voice trembles as more tears spill down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

For a moment there’s nothing but the sounds of traffic on the other end—horns blaring and the roar of the Impala. “No,” he chokes, his voice breaking. “No, Cas, you…you can’t—”

“I love you,” I croak, feeling the flames on my back. I hold back a whimper and close my eyes. “I forgive you.”

“Cas? Cas, we’re gonna get you out. We will, so just hang on—” But I know they won’t. I know it and he knows it. This is goodbye.

“I—I love you,” I say again before more coughing seizes me, rattling my bones as a rib catches a lung and more blood taints my lips. Dean yells over the noise. He’s panicking, I know. This might just break him, and I wish, more than anything, that he wouldn’t have to feel it, but he will. He will. “It’s…okay.”

“No, no it’s not okay, Castiel! This is _not_ okay!” His voice breaks—two octaves too high—and my throat burns with more tears. I can hear the firefighters outside, shouting at one another below.

“Tell me something good—something happy.” I need him to talk—to be the voice I hear at the end when it’s all over. He can give me this—this one last thing—before everything is taken away.

“Um, okay, yeah. I can do that, yeah.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, sniffling loudly before continuing. “Uh, well…I was… I was going to ask you to marry me, you know? On our trip, I—I was going to take you to the beach at sunset and…” His voice catches. Breath rattles through the phone. “And g-get down on one knee, and ask you. I’ve got a ring and everything…” A small smile curves my lips as I think about it.

“Yeah? What—” Another round of coughing cuts me off and I can’t quite catch my breath after. “What—what does it…look like?”

“W-well it, it’s simple, like you’d want…” He trails off with a shuddering breath before continuing, his voice a little more strained. “White gold. It’s nice. I’m almost there, Love.”

He’s too late. They’re all too late. I can’t bring myself to say it, though, so I don’t. “Okay…okay.” I think about Dean proposing. It’s a nice image; one I would’ve loved to experience for myself. Would I have said yes? I think about it, and it’s really no question. Of course I would have. “Yes. My answer,” I choke as more blood trickles from my mouth and down my chin—the floor is slick with it, “would have been y-yes, by the way.” He doesn’t respond and now the flames lick at my ankles…my back and my hair… “Don’t take too long,” I say, hating that it won’t matter. Hating that the last time I saw him I was angry. Hating the unfairness of this life…

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He hiccups on the other end, an aborted sob ripped from him anyway. I close my eyes and sag into the floor, feeling every broken part of me screaming. I want to scream with it. Scream about the unfairness of it all. But this is life, and so it goes.

Instead, I think of Dean—a memory from a few weeks ago of smooth pebbles in rippling water. My lips twitch with a smile—my heart swelling with love for the man on the other end of the line—because I get it.

The smoke is impossibly thick now and I can feel my body begging for air—screaming for it—and suffocating without it. My ears are ringing and I can barely hear myself say, “I know.” I suck in the smoke and the air and cough hard but speak anyway. “I get it now.”

“W-what?”

“How you love me. I understand.” And it’s so beautiful and so very _Dean_ that I don’t know how I missed it because _of course…_

I am the pebble, his love is the water, and I am drowning in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...what you think? Leave me a comment to let me know!
> 
> I haven't even started writing the end yet so it'll probably be a while before I update again. With Christmas and everything, I'll probably be short on free time but I'll try to get another one posted. This story will probably be done before the end of January, if not sooner.
> 
> Anyway, thoughts?


	30. If Only To Save Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, this took me so looong but I can explain I promise. Sooo while I was trying to write the final chapters, I didn't feel like they fit and I didn't know why. So I thought about it and decided to change the ending from what I had originally planned and between the outlining, Christmas, and the actual writing...here we are.
> 
> So here's chapter thirty. I've written thirty-one and half of thirty-two so they shouldn't take too long. These might change a little as I read them over though, so be prepared lol.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you love it and let me know what you think in the comments, please!

**_December 23, 2010_ **

_CASTIEL_

My nose burns from the harsh scent of antibacterial cleanser. It’s foreign yet so familiar and the _last_ thing I want to smell because it means I _failed._ It means that even at _this_ —at _killing_ myself—I can’t get it right.

I can’t do _anything_ right.

The room is too white and too bright when I peel my eyes open, blinking and squinting before finally adjusting, ignoring the pounding in my head in favor of scanning the room. The hospital room is much like all the others I’ve been in; with its blinking and beeping machines and ugly attempt at decorating, but it’s different somehow, too. Not the same style of generic flower paintings and tacky sheet patterns. I’ve been in so many rooms of Lawrence General that, before I even opened my eyes, I knew.

I glance to my right when the chair creaks and Gabe’s whiskey-colored eyes stare back at me. He doesn’t speak for a bit; waiting for me perhaps, but I don’t speak either. I don’t need to.

So far I’ve done a pretty good job of _not_ thinking about what I did. I know my wrists are wrapped in gauze and the stitches itch but I refuse to look at them, keeping my eyes level with Gabe’s. My stomach turns, doing circus flips and threatening to toss anything inside back up.

My heart sinks when Gabe looks down at his hands. “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” he says to his shoes and I can’t help the eye-roll. He smirks when he says it but it's forced, his eyes dull and laugh-less. He bites his bottom lip, chewing it for a minute as the smile fades before he sighs and falls back in the chair. “Seriously, though, Cassie. We’re not in Kansas.”

I know that already—I do—but hearing it has my heart leaping into my throat and sinking to my shoes all in the same moment.

I clear my throat, feeling the burn of dehydration. My mouth tastes like paste and it’s too dry. I swallow a few times before opening my mouth to speak. “W-why?” I cough, searching for some water and finding a glass in Gabe’s hand. He holds it out, pressing a button on a control and the bed shifts under me, lifting me up until I’m sitting properly. I take the water with a shaky hand and sip through the straw, closing my eyes as the cool relief slips down my aching throat.

He flicks at the blanket covering my legs, almost managing to disguise his trembling fingers. He swallows a few times, opening and closing his mouth, clenching and unclenching his jaw and blinking hard. He answers, “We couldn’t stay.”

It’s the _we_ that has me pausing mid-sip because I _could_ have stayed; Mom wouldn’t have thought twice about sending me back into that snake pit. It would have been horrible and uncomfortable and just…but I could have stayed.

So Mom? She couldn’t? Or…or Gabe? But why…?

The question hits me almost out of nowhere and it slips off my tongue into the space between us before I can stop it.

If I’m here, someone must have found me.

“Was it you?” His eyes shoot to mine and he frowns, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “That found me. Was it you?”

He doesn’t speak and he doesn’t nod but I can tell. It’s in the tightening around his eyes and thinning of his lips—I can tell.

I know deep down in my heart—too deep to reach right now—that it’s not Dean’s fault; we make our own choices and no one is responsible for those but us. But, in this moment, I hate him for what happened. For the pain in Gabe’s eyes and the bandages on my wrists that I still can’t bring myself to look at. I push everything else down, holding it back and forcing it away until all I feel is bitter hatred. It curls in my gut and poisons my memories of him but I don’t care; I need this. I need to hate him so I don’t hate myself.

 

**_January 24, 2019_ **

_DEAN_

“Cas? Cas! Come on, _Cas!_ ” The light from the flames stretches over the tops of buildings, lighting the night sky in a way that has my stomach twisting. I force it back as air shudders from my lungs. “I’m coming, Angel. It’s okay. Just a little bit longer—” I swallow back the sob that tries to force itself out, fighting against the urge to squeeze my eyes shut and ignore what’s happening.

I can’t get my hands to work enough to end the call so I set my phone on the seat beside me, instead. I hit the gas as I round the corner and my heart drops to the floor because it’s worse—so much fucking _worse—_ than I thought it’d be. The entire building is engulfed—flames shooting out everywhere, the water from the hoses doing very little to put the flames out as it eats away at the old, wooden building.

I’m out of the car and running before I even register what I’m doing, my gear already on and my helmet in my hand.

“ _Cas!_ ” I shout, pushing past the crew crowded around the hoses.

“Who the hell called _Winchester?_ ” Benny’s arms wrap around my shoulders out of nowhere, dragging me back. I fight and fight and fight but he’s like a fucking octopus and I hit the ground hard, tears I didn’t know I had blurring my vision and streaming down my face as my helmet rolls away.

“I did! What the hell’s wrong with him?” Rufus’s voice comes from somewhere above me and some part of me knows I need to pull myself together but I _can’t._

“This is his guy’s place, but I don’t know—” His arms loosen and I scramble to my feet, grabbing my helmet as I go. “Fuck. Fuck, he’s in there, ain’t he?” I don’t answer, wiping my tears and running for the truck as I scramble to get my head in order.

“Go home, Winchester! That’s an order!” Rufus’s voice barely carries over the roar of the fire but I pretend I don’t hear, grabbing an oxygen tank and strapping it on before moving around to the back of the building. They won’t risk a man now; not with the blaze so out of control, but…fuck. It’s _Cas. My_ Cas. I can’t—I can’t leave him in there. I _can’t_ lose him. Not again. Not like this.

I push through the back door just as a hand lands on my shoulder. I close my eyes and speak without looking, already knowing who it is. “I can’t leave him in there, Benny.”

“I’m not asking you to—I’m coming with you.”

Now I do turn to face him, shaking my head as I do. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking.” He pushes past me into the entrance, nodding up the stairs. I sag with both relief and worry, knowing I won’t be alone but also terrified of losing him, too.

I shove those thoughts away and focus on the task at hand. If there’s anything I know how to do, and do well, it’s my damn job. I round the corner and my jaw clenches tight when my eyes lock on the burning couch blocking our path.

“How the fuck are we supposed to get past that?” I don’t even finish speaking before Benny starts spraying it with a fire extinguisher. It doesn’t do much, but it’s enough for us to be able to push it back up the stairs and out of the way. My muscles shake from the heat and the effort but I keep going, my fear and adrenaline ratcheting higher with every second that passes. Terror tries to force its way past the calm but I don’t let it—I _can’t_. Not yet.

Smoke clouds my vision and flames lick at my gear as I stumble through the doorway. I don’t see him at first—the entire room is engulfed—and my heart sinks as my stomach twists dangerously.

I press on, walking through the flames and scanning the floor until a body, broken and battered, comes into view through the thick smoke. I trip over my feet to get to him, falling to my knees at his side without even a thought to the pain that radiates from my kneecaps as a sob chokes me. Cas’s phone sits beside his ear, shut off from the heat as he lays in a pool of dark liquid, illuminated by the eery light of the fire. I know what it is—of course, I do—but to say it would make it real. To think it might break me.

“Cas…” He’s naked—not even a towel around his waist—and the fire licks at his skin. I scramble for something—anything—to douse it and a fire blanket is thrust into my hand. Thank God for Benny.

I wrap it around Cas, smothering the flames before pulling him to my chest, rocking him softly. Horror consumes me as my very worst nightmares are made real again.“It’s okay, Cas. I’m here now—you’re okay. You’re okay…” Words spill from my lips as I sit there, holding him tight, while he lays limp in my arms, his head lolling to the side and no air passing from his lips.

I know it—I _know_ it—but still…I rock him in my arms as tears fall, unbidden, from my eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to save him—to save _everyone._

I’d trade them all to save _him_ , though—I know I would. Sitting here, as every part of me shakes—breaks—I know it. I would trade _everyone_ for him. Please, God, just let me save _him._

“Dean.”

I hold Cas tighter. Pull him closer.

“Dean, he’s gone.”

I shake my head fiercely, sending more tears dripping down my cheeks.

“Dean, we have to go.”

“No.” The word squeaks out past my tight throat, barely audible to even my own ears. I stare down at Cas’s battered face—hardly recognizable through all the damage—and still, he is _so_ beautiful; the very best part of me. I pull off one glove and push my fingers through his wet and matted hair, forcing myself to ignore the reason it’s like that.

“ _Dean!_ Let’s _go!_ ” Benny grabs my arm, pulling hard to get me up. “We can’t help him in here, brother.”

I blink away the tears and nod, not looking away from Cas’s face. His white lips and dead eyes. Yeah…yeah if we get him out, we can save him. I nod again, struggling to stand under his weight. Benny grabs his legs, careful to keep the blanket around him to prevent further burns.

The floor creaks dangerously under our weight as we move to the stairs but we don’t stop, Benny moving for his own life, and me…for the same.

Benny goes first, walking sideways down the stairs with me following behind, struggling to breathe even with the oxygen pumping into my mask. My legs shake with the effort it takes to stand but I force myself to keep going—to hold onto the possibility that—that I won’t lose him. With the steps breaking under my feet, I pray to anyone listening to save him.

We shove open the back door and run through the alley to the front of the building. I don’t bother looking at anyone before we’re laying Cas down on his back and I’m throwing off my mask and helmet to start CPR, pumping his chest almost frantically before breathing air into his lungs.

Time gets lost. Seconds turn to minutes that I don’t bother counting as Cas’s already broken ribs snap under my hands. I flinch every time one breaks, feeling tears fall from my eyes to land on his face, streaking through the blood and soot already there. His lifeless eyes don’t stare up at me—they don’t stare up at anything at all—closed to the world as we know it.

“Dean…” Benny’s voice comes from somewhere just behind me. “Dean, let him go.”

I think I say no but I can’t be sure, not taking the time to turn and look. I tilt his head back, pinch his nose, and breathe deeply into his lungs. Once…twice. His chest rises beneath my arms in a cruel, mocking way that has hope springing up before dying just as fast when it doesn’t rise again on its own.

A hand lands on my shoulder but I shrug it off, keeping my eyes trained on Cas’s face. My vision blurs every so often but I blink it clear, forcing back every part of me that’s telling me to give up. I _can’t_ give up; I’ll lose him if I do, and I don’t know how to lose Cas. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to find out.

More lights flash just beyond us now and Benny pulls my shoulders more insistently. My hands scramble to keep pumping Cas’s heart but Benny just won’t fucking let _go._

“Dean, you have to move.”

I can only shake my head as something sick and sharp rips through my chest and tears up my throat. My face pinches as I fight to keep the tears at bay, struggling with the part of me that _knows._

“Dean, stop…”

My hands ache.

“Dean…”

My eyes burn.

“ _Dean!_ ”

But I can’t stop.

“Winchester, stop!”

I _can’t_ stop.

“You have to…”

I can’t.

“…let him go!”

_I can’t._


	31. These Empty Spaces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, this story is almost over! I have the next chapter written and then just one more! I'm so excited to get them all finished and posted for you but at the same time, I don't want it to be over!
> 
> I'll probably post the last two chapters within the next two weeks but we'll see how things go with school and stuff. Okay, I hope you like this chapter! Leave a comment and tell me what you think!

**_January 21, 2011_ **

_DEAN_

Everything’s too bright.

That’s all I know. It’s just _too_ _bright._ Even behind closed eyelids, I can’t stand it. I try to move; to sit up and get my bearings, but pain, sharp and paralyzing, holds me where I am. I groan, not near loud enough to hear before I latch onto a stray thought and try to concentrate on it.

Where am I?

I try to think back to what came before now but there’s nothing. Nothing but a big black wall of…empty. I try harder, forcing my mind back but…yeah, no—it’s all just…blank. Not where I am or why I’m here or even…even _who_ I am.

Who am I?

There’s a steady beep on the other side of the darkness and it’s getting faster with every breath I take as more of that black _nothing_ comes up when I dig for who I am. No name. No story. Not a single thing.

Except, now that I’m looking for it, there is…something. It’s—it’s a feeling. I feel…sadness. But deeper—so much deeper—and it’s so intense and painful and I don’t know _why_ but my eyes well with tears and my throat squeezes shut and I’m _crying…_

Why am I crying?

It’s like a sickness in my stomach, rolling over and over before a sound so awfully pained hits my ears and somehow I know it’s from me but I don’t know who _me_ is.

I open my eyes and there’s someone there but I stare past him at the ceiling as tears roll down my cheeks and into my ears. I don’t look at his face but I can see his wide eyes and I know he knows me but I don’t know how.

My head spins as loss, so potent and all-consuming, floods me. I drown in it, not knowing how or why. Faces come and go above me but I never know who they are and the tears never stop. Through all the tests and the questions and exams, it’s this overwhelming loss that remains.

I hold onto it like it’s a life raft and I’m lost at sea.

 

_SAM_

“What’s wrong with him?” I look at Bobby but he’s facing the doctor who flashes a light over Dean’s eyes before writing something on her notepad. He doesn’t answer me. Yeah, okay, I get it—still mad, but _come on—_ this isn’t about me. It was only twenty bucks, anyway.

Finally, after a whole lot of tests that don’t seem to do anything, the doctor turns to Bobby. “Dean appears to be suffering from amnesia, brought on by the head trauma he sustained in the accident.”

“So he doesn’t remember us?”

“That’s how it appears at the moment, yes. It is likely that he remembers very little if anything at all, but the only way to know for certain is to ask him. I suspect he won’t be ready to talk for a while and will likely require intense therapy to help the process along, but I’m optimistic that he’ll make almost a full recovery over time.”

She waits for any questions Bobby might have but he has none, only giving a small nod while looking past her to where Dean stares up at the ceiling.

The occasional tear slips from his eyes but he’s quiet now; those horrible sounds having stopped about twenty minutes after they started.

I leave Bobby standing a few feet away and sit by the bed. Dean doesn’t look at me or even acknowledge when I take his wrist in my hand. It’s pale, highlighting the yellowing bruises and almost completely scabbed over cuts as I turn it over.

The TV plays as background noise; the news talking about some fundraiser being held for some stupid elementary school play. I don’t really listen, watching Dean’s eyes instead. He blinks slowly every few seconds, tears wetting his lashes before falling from his eyes. It’s the only sign that he’s actually alive; otherwise, he’s perfectly still.

I jump when Bobby speaks above me but I don’t look back. “He’s gonna need you now, so you’re gonna have to get your crap together.” His heavy steps echo in the room as he walks out without another word.

I squeeze my eyes shut before opening them again and blinking hard. I want him to be wrong. _God_ , do I want him to be wrong. I want to keep doing what I’m doing and just say _fuck the consequences_ but I can’t—I know I can’t. It’s my turn to take care of Dean—he needs _me_ now. I mean, he’s taken care of me practically my whole life and now he needs _me,_ so yeah, I can do this for him—I can get my crap together.

His pulse thumps steadily beneath my thumb and in my ears as the heart monitor beeps in sync.

With my mind made up, I take out my phone and pull up the unnamed contact—my direct line to Azazel—and type out a quick text, sending it before I lose my nerve. _I’m done. For real this time._ I know what his response will be, but I block the number and delete the contact before it comes through, then send the same message to Ruby, blocking and deleting her number right after. I won’t go back—that I know for sure.

Doctors come and go, checking his vitals before leaving again and I just sit there, eating the food Ellen brings and ignoring Jo while she cries before leaving a while later.

Bobby tries to get me to go home when the sun sets but I refuse, laying my head beside Dean’s hand instead and taking comfort in his steady breaths.

He closed his eyes a while ago, sleeping fitfully, now that he’s no longer comatose. I must dose for a few hours, too, because the next time I open my eyes, the clock on the wall reads 1:47 am. The only light in the room streams in under the door and from the TV playing silently in the corner.

I look at Dean, finding him awake and staring at the TV. I study his face for a minute, scanning the healed over cut at his hairline and one on his chin. They’re the only ones that left a scar; too deep to heal seamlessly. The rest of the scrapes and bruises are mostly healed by now, except for the worst ones, and the only _real_ evidence of the accident shows in the cast on his left leg and arm.

As I stare, the differences become more and more noticeable. He seems softer, somehow—his eyes not as wary and hardened to the world as they once were. It’s unsettling—seeing my brother this open and fragile—but it has to be better like this. Though with the softness, the sadness is more evident and he doesn’t try to hide it like he would before.

He doesn’t even seem to notice his injuries, though—or anything for that matter—staring blankly at the TV without really seeing it. What is he seeing, then? If not what’s in front of him. I look at the TV and back to Dean before doing a double take as my heart lodges in my throat. I scramble for the remote to turn up the volume.

 _“—unidentified female has been pulled from the ravine only a few minutes ago after a witness saw her body floating and called the police. She was pronounced dead at the scene but police are saying her death has not been ruled as accidental. The markings on her arms suggest drug abuse, but it’s the bruising around her neck and puncture wound in her back that leads police to believe she is a homicide victim.”_ A picture of Ruby’s face is flashed on the screen. _“She is believed to be around fourteen years old but that is uncertain, as there was no identification present on her body at the time of discovery. If there is anyone who recognizes this girl, please call your local police detachment or our anonymous tip line. Back to you, Paula.”_

I choke on my tongue, shaking violently as my eyes stay glued to the screen, unable to look away from Ruby’s face. This is my fault. I know it, but it does nothing to shake my resolve, only making it all the more clear that I did good by getting out now.

Almost without thinking, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial the anonymous tip number that runs along the bottom of the screen. I tell them what I know but I don’t hear the words as I speak them, too focussed on her picture to think of anything else.

That is until Dean speaks.

“She was important to you.”

His voice is rough and dry—underused—and I know it’s not a question but I answer anyway. “Yes…no. Kind of.” I shrug. “It’s a long story,” I sigh, feeling the weight of worry lift off my shoulders at the sound of his voice, then resettle again at the thought of Ruby. Dead. She’s dead.

“I…I understand.” His eyebrows furrow and he looks at his hands. “I think.” He lifts his eyes to mine and I shudder at the lack of recognition. We’re strangers in his mind. “Who are you?”

My heart aches but I try to force a smile. “Sammy—Sam Winchester. We’re brothers.”

He only nods, looking away as he thinks hard—trying to remember, I’d guess. “And me?” He clears his throat and I hand him a glass of water with a straw. He sips at it before handing it back and continuing. “Who am I?”

“Dean.”

“O-okay…” He scratches at the skin just above the cast on his arm. “I was wondering why people kept calling me that.” That has me cracking a smile. “S-Sam?”

“Yeah?” He looks over at me, haunted eyes meeting mine.

“What happened to me? Why do I feel so…sad?”

It’s the pleading in his eyes that makes me stop just before telling him about Cas. Cas is gone—left Kansas around Christmas. They kept him out of the news as best they could and took off. Dean doesn’t need to know what happened—it’ll only hurt him more.

“You…uh…were coming home late. Swerved to miss something—probably a deer—and hit an oncoming transport truck.” Okay, so that’s not _exactly_ true but not exactly a lie either—a half-truth. He was drunk out of his mind—the tox-screen proved that—but I know better. His words play in my mind as clearly as if he were saying them now. _I can’t do it anymore, Sammy._ It’s what keeps me up at night—the defeat in his voice when he said those words to me. He was giving up—throwing it all away and leaving me behind. It’s what had me hanging up and calling the police.

I shove the memories back and look away from him and back to the TV, now showing the weather report for the next week. “Totalled your car, by the way. Don't worry—Bobby made sure it wasn’t scrapped so you can fix her up.”

“My…car.” He does that pinched-face thing again—his thinking face—but comes up with nothing, judging by the slump of his shoulders. “Is that why I’m sad?”

My heart clenches and I try to keep it from showing on my face. I’ve gotten really good at lying to Dean, but it’s still a wonder that he believes me when I tell him, “Yeah, that’s why.” I guess forgetting everything and everyone he once knew means he also doesn’t remember my tells. Makes sense if you think about it.

He’ll never find out about Cas, though, so what does it matter? No one but me knew about them, anyway. Not Bobby or Ellen or even Jo.

For a minute it looks like he doesn’t think that’s enough—like the sorrow he feels is far deeper than it should be for wrecking a car—and he’s right; Cas was worth far more to him than his car, but he can’t know that. “You _really_ love your car,” I tell him in way of an explanation and he seems to take it, nodding slowly before resting his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes.

Not long after, his heart rate slows and his head falls to the side. I don’t sleep though, my stomach turning riots inside me. He can’t know about Cas. He _can’t—_ he might never recover from that.

 

**_February 9, 2019_ **

_DEAN_

I shoot up in bed, gasping for breath as I slap frantically at the space beside me, my heart breaking all over again when my palm meets cold sheets. Luna chirrups, arching her back before curling back up on the pillow— _Cas’s_ pillow. _Fuck._

Every breath comes harder as the weight of reality crushes me, pressing on my chest as I curl my legs up and rest my forehead on my knees, squeezing my eyes shut tight to block out the world. The _real_ world. I cling to the dream—to Cas—even if it makes this so much worse. The bed feels too big—too lonely—without him; Luna doesn’t take up nearly enough space.

I should dig out the sleeping pills—take a couple and knock out for a few hours. They only prolong the dreams though, making them feel so much more real. That’s the worst part of it because they _were_ real and I want to hold onto them forever and never let go and _this…_ this waking up thing…I used to think you couldn’t have nightmares if you didn’t sleep, but it turns out waking nightmares are the worst kind.

I try to take deep breaths to slow my heart, but I shake so hard my teeth chatter, my chest quaking as the flood of sorrow hits me like a truck and I gasp for breath, feeling the loss somehow stronger tonight than usual. It’s like a clawing in my chest; a burning ache for something I can never have again.

This. _This_ is the worst kind of nightmare—the kind you don’t wake up from. _This_ is everything I feared and so, _so_ much more. It only gets worse with every second that passes, burning me from the inside until I can’t take it anymore—not for another second. It claws up my throat until I shoot out of bed, needing to get up before I scream because it’s _too quiet._ The only sound in the house being my gasping breaths and the pounding in my ears. Nothing else. Just me. Alone.

_I’m losing my mind._

It’s a whisper in the back of my thoughts; the only voice I hear in the middle of the night when I’m wide awake and _utterly_ alone. No soft spoken words telling me to come back to bed. No whispered assurances that everything’s gonna be alright because it’s _not._ It’s not alright.

I pivot on my heel and leave the room, not bothering to turn on the lights as I stumble down the hall to the kitchen. Pulling open the fridge, I squint against the harsh light as I grab the bottle of bourbon before shutting the door. I don’t bother with a glass, twisting off the cap and tossing it aside—it won’t be going back on the bottle anyway. I fall into a chair at the table, facing the blank wall in front of me, and tip my head back, ignoring the burn as I take gasping pulls before slamming the bottle down.

It’s early, I know. The sun is still far from rising and if there were a moon tonight, it’d be high in the sky, but I won’t be going back to sleep, so I drink and try not to think too hard, but the memories of my dream trickle through, squeezing my heart with longing.

I don’t see the burning room or Cas’s battered body—somehow I think that might be better. Instead, I see the light falling over Cas’s sleeping face in the morning and the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Memories of the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips as he bakes, holding the measuring cup up at eye level to get the measurement _just right._ These are the things I dream of. These are the things I’ve lost.

Because _I_ couldn’t save him. If I’d arrived sooner or if I’d not told him to leave…Fuck, if I’d just _been there…_

This would’ve happened anyway.

I shake my head and tilt it back on my neck, closing my eyes to the empty room. Hours pass like this. I don’t sleep but I don’t move either. I’ll have a hell of a kink in my neck but I can’t bring myself to get up. I feel too heavy; weighed down in my chair.

The sun peeks through the window in the living room, streaming over the kitchen table but not quite reaching me. The bottle in my hand is wet with condensation, dripping over my fingers and onto the table in little puddles. I drop my head and focus on that instead of everything else—instead of thinking about how trapped I feel—stuck in this limbo of staying and going. Moving forward and going back. With Cas…as he is…I’m stuck.

The droplets soak into the wood, threatening to stain, but I just watch it, letting it warp the grain as it pleases. I close my eyes again.

The sun rises steadily over the house and Luna eventually makes her way into the kitchen, curling herself around my ankles before leaving me for her food bowl, eating happily.

I don’t hear the door open or Sam calling my name. I don’t hear his booted footsteps as he walks over the hardwood floors, and I definitely don’t hear him pull out a chair and sit next to me. I don’t open my eyes either. Not even when he starts to speak.

“You’ve gotta get up, Dean—do something. You can’t just sit here forever.” _Hell if I can’t._ I don’t say this though; I don’t say anything and he sighs like the weight of the world is pushing all the air from his lungs. His fingers start tap-tapping on the table in a steady rhythm.

I force every breath to come out in an even stream of air. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Over and over and over until I think I can hold back the tears that burn the back of my throat.

“I—uh…came to tell you about—” He clears his throat. “About the guys who, you know, did that to Cas.” He pauses for a moment but continues when I don’t respond, jumping right in. “I gotta say, connecting the security feed to your laptop was genius.” He chuckles softly. “Wouldn’t’ve got them otherwise. They’re going away for a long time—all of them.” The relief in his voice is too strong to just be about Cas. “Azazel, Alistair, Crowley…they’re all going to prison. Even Michael.” He snorts, “Jody laid into him when she found out he was their rat.” I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little relieved, too. “She threw the fucking _book_ at them.” Another chuckle—this one more forced.

The bell on Luna’s collar jingles when she jumps onto Sam’s lap, her purrs’ audible in the heavy silence. Eventually, she jumps off, her tiny feet, soundless on the floor.

“I brought you something…from the—the fire. They had to keep it in evidence for a while but Jo gave it to me this morning and I…I thought you might want it.” My eyes open as he slides a picture frame across the table, glass shattered and smudged with soot, but behind that, the photo of Cas and I on Christmas day, and, tucked into the corner, the one from the photo album that burned in the fire.

It’s like a physical blow, punching through my stomach and clawing at my insides. I choke on my own tongue and clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches. I shake—so bad I can’t see clearly—because _this_ is my nightmare. _This_ picture and every other memory I have of him. And I want to _scream_ because, oh God, it _hurts…_ but I don’t. I clench my teeth and hunch my shoulders over the table, staring down at that _fucking_ smile.

Sam keeps talking but I don’t really listen. He asks if I’ve been to see him since the first time but I don’t answer. He knows I haven’t—knows I can’t. Not when it feels like Cas is a million miles from the surface.

Eventually, he stands, his hand falling to my shoulder and giving it a squeeze before he leaves. I listen for the click of the door and then I’m standing—shooting out of my chair before I even realize it—and the bottle in my hand hits the opposite wall, shattering into a million pieces—the inch and a half left inside splattering on the wall.

Luna’s claws scramble across the hardwood floor as she escapes and then I’m _screaming._ So loud and pained that my throat burns and the neighbors probably hear but _I don’t care_ —about _anything_ —and then the photo frame follows the bottle as tears spill down my cheeks, cracking the drywall and splintering the frame.

I brace my hands on the table top, my head hanging between my arms as every ragged breath tears more of me away. I don’t know how long I stand there for, but it’s long enough for my shoulders to ache and my head to spin when I straighten up, walking through the broken glass in my bare feet without a second thought to the stinging cuts.

Gingerly, I pick the photo frame up off the floor, shaking away the broken glass and wood. I set it on the table when a flash of bright blue catches my eye and I look down, squinting at the square piece of paper. I pick it up, unfolding the worn, crumpled corners and holding it between a finger and thumb while frowning at the faded red ink.

As the words register in my mind, my heart stutters before skipping a beat and fresh tears prick my eyes.

_I love you, Dean Winchester._

__


	32. Long Road Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is done and I'm too excited to wait for next week to post it because there's ONLY ONE MORE CHAPTER!!! I've only just started it so it'll almost definitely take a week to finish. But here's this one! questions will be answered (one in particular) that you've been asking so there's that.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter! Let me know what you think!

**_January 21, 2011_ **

_CASTIEL_

“Castiel Novak? Mr. Roman will see you now.” I stand on shaky legs, making sure my dress shirt is tucked in and my tie is straight. I let out a shuddering breath before following the perfectly made-up secretary into Mr. Roman’s office.

This is it. This is my last chance. My hands tremble by my sides as I force my mouth into a calm smile, taking deep breaths as I cross the threshold.

“Mr. Novak, take a seat.” He doesn’t even bother to look up as he waves to one of two chairs in front of his desk. I pick the one closest to the door and try not to stare as he continues reading whatever is laid out in front of him.

Glancing around the room, I take in the wall of windows behind the desk and the expensive carpet. The bar in the corner looks fully stocked and it would be untruthful to say I don’t want a drink right now—just to calm my nerves.

I tug at the sleeves of my shirt, acutely aware of how my scars just barely peek out of the cuffs. I try to ignore it so as not to bring attention to them but my fingers stray there when I’m nervous, feeling the jagged ridges on both wrists, the skin still a dark, angry red.

My knee starts bouncing as my palms begin to sweat and I wipe them on my slacks, both drying my hands and forcing my leg to stay still. After a full ten minutes have passed with Mr. Roman ignoring my existence, I cough, clearing my throat.

He glances up at me and actually has the gall to look annoyed. He sets his files aside, folding his hands on the desk in front of him and staring me dead in the eye with an unreadable expression.

“Right, then.” He pulls over my manuscript, flipping through it carelessly before shoving it towards me. “Frankly speaking, this is crap—unreadable, glorified toilet paper, to be more specific.”

I blink once. Then again. Then rapidly as his words sink in and my heart plummets. My stomach turns and I bite my tongue hard enough to bleed as I fight not to yell…or cry.

“The characters are flat, the plot is childish, and honestly, I just don’t give a shit what happens to any of them.” He shrugs and tosses my manuscript at me, covered in red pen marks—so much so that it’s hard to see the black ink below.

“I…I—” I scramble for something—anything—to say to turn this meeting around but he’s already pulled his files back in front of him.

He shoos me away without looking up. “That’s all. I need to get back to this.” I stand slowly, my legs shaking for a whole new reason as devastation threatens to send me to my knees. I bend to pick up my manuscript where it fell to the floor and hug it tight to my chest before turning to the door.

Surely this must be some kind of sick joke, right? He’s going to call me back any second, tell me it was a test—that the story is good—and we’ll have a proper conversation about getting it published.

Surely…

But the closer I get to the door, the more that hope dies and the weaker my knees get. I squeeze my eyes shut tight as I step into the waiting area, taking one more deep, shaky breath before clenching my teeth, lowering my head, and hurrying to the elevator.

Dean lied to me.

He said he liked it—that it’s a good story with good characters and a powerful meaning. This must’ve been what he wanted—for me to humiliate myself and destroy my hopes and dreams of becoming a published writer. He _knew_ it sucked but he told me to get it published anyway.

I just barely make it into the bathroom stall before the first tear falls—locking the door with the second one dripping down my cheek. I sit on the closed lid and bury my head in my hands with my manuscript on my lap as the floodgates open and I cry silently, hating myself and Dick Roman and _Dean._

_I’m never writing again._

I wipe my tears with the backs of my hands and tuck the rumpled and marked-up stack of pages under my arm before unlocking the door and exiting the stall. My face is red and puffy in the mirror but the eyes that stare back at me are hard and determined. I pull the manuscript out from under my arm, holding it in both hands over the garbage can. _Let it go. Let go of it. Throw it out._

But I can’t. I can’t, so I tuck it back under my arm and head for home, fighting back tears the whole way there.

~*~*~*~

It’s been weeks since that day in Dick Roman’s office and this is the first time Mom has wondered what’s wrong with me. Year’s ago I would’ve been thrilled at the attention, but now? Now, I just want to be left alone.

I pull the sheet higher over my head as she paces in the narrow space between my bed and the door, huffing and puffing as she goes—only stopping to take a break between rants to catch her breath. I just close my eyes, ignoring how my hair falls limply across them, weighed down by sweat and dirt and oil. I don’t care. I don’t _care._

That’s her problem with all this; I just don’t _care._ I’m not angry, or sad, or anything. I don’t yell and scream. I don’t cry. I just…sleep. All the time. I get up to pee and occasionally manage to get down whatever she forces into my mouth, but that’s it. I don’t think I’ve even spoken more than a couple words to her since we moved here.

“You want attention. That’s it, isn’t it? I don’t pay enough attention to you? I _work,_ Castiel! To put a roof over your head and food on the table!” She huffs a few more times before her high heels stop their click-clicking on the hardwood floor. “This is so _selfish_ of you! I left my _job_ and my _life_ to move us out here after your…your whatever it was.”

A spark of…something…lights in my chest and I clench my teeth, scowling at the opposite wall but refusing to respond.

“Everyone is bullied in high school; they just don’t take it so hard! They certainly don’t go and…and do what you did!”

I whip the covers off and sit up, feeling my head start to pound but ignoring it in favor of sending a blistering glare at her, white-hot emotions bubbling up inside me for the first time since we left Kansas—so intense I can’t name them all.

“I stopped fighting for your attention around the age of ten when it became apparent that you don’t care to give it.” Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline and she opens her mouth to respond but I’m not finished. Pulling back my sleeves, I show her my scars. “I didn’t do this for _attention._ I was _raped,_ Mom. By the same people who have bullied me since we moved to Lawrence. By my _cousins._ ”

Her jaw drops open and part of me is angry—a big part of me—but that tiny sliver that still wants her approval needs, more than anything, for her to believe me. For her to pull me into her arms and tell me she loves me and that it’ll all be okay. My heart sinks when her eyes narrow in disbelief.

“It’s one thing to look for attention like… _this_ ,” she waves a hand in the general direction of my wrists. “But to tarnish the reputation of your _family_ for attention? I raised you better than that.”

I snort and roll my eyes. Raised me better—she hardly raised me at all. I roll back over and pull the sheet up to my chin, closing my eyes to block out the harsh light shining in through the open curtains.

“Yes, that’s about what I expected. Whether you believe me or not, it doesn’t change how badly I wish Gabe hadn’t come home early.” I sink further into the mattress, feeling the weight of the world crushing me. My chest aches as tears prick my eyes but I refuse to let them fall, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths. As the truth of my words sinks in, it gets harder and harder to breathe. “Leave me alone,” I whisper but I know she hears me.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“Just…get out,” I say a little louder, squeezing my eyes shut tighter as I start to shake.

“I am your _mother—_ ”

“ _Get out!_ ” I shout, curling my knees into my chest and biting my bottom lip until it bleeds. They took me off my medication when I went into the hospital so there’s absolutely nothing I can do about the panic attack that quickly consumes me, rattling my bones as I the door clicks shut behind me.

_I can’t stay here._

As soon as I think it, I know it’s true. I can’t live with her anymore. I need to get out. So I wait for the panic attack to fade before reaching for my phone and dialing Gabe’s number with shaking hands.

It rings twice before Gabe’s voice comes across the line. “What’s shakin’, Cassie?”

“Can I…um…I need to leave here.” I swallow hard, feeling the lump still lodged in my throat. “Can I come live with you for a bit? Just until I graduate and can get a proper job.” I wince preemptively, awaiting his reply.

“‘Course you can. Come on over and stay as long as you want.” I sigh in relief and thank him before hanging up and climbing out of bed to pack a bag with the essentials, deciding to leave everything I don’t need behind.

I throw my bag over my shoulder and pull my wheeled suitcase behind me, my eyes catching a marked-up stack of papers on my nightstand just inside the door.

I stare at my manuscript for a long time, picking it up and dropping it into the trash bin before I can change my mind. A small blue post-it note flutters to the floor and I pick it up, too, reading the words written in red ink. My heart skips a few beats as something dark burns in my gut and I crumple it in my fist before tossing it away with the manuscript.

Mom is nowhere to be found. I don’t leave a note before I go, walking out the door without a backward glance and leaving my past, and everything in it, behind me.

 

**_February 13, 2019_ **

_DEAN_

It’s around ten in the morning when I decide I can’t stay here.

I need to get out of this house—get out of Lawrence. Kansas even. Cas is in the fucking walls of this house. In every corner I look, he has a place.

I thought that maybe I would be okay, but every night I get less and less sleep, constantly reminded of everything I’ve lost. It’s been three weeks since the fire and I thought that maybe it would get better—like maybe I would eventually be able to sleep in my own bed without feeling all the empty space beside me—but it hasn’t. It’s gotten so much worse than that and I just don’t know how…how do I not love him? How do I lose him and ever manage to be okay with that?

So I pack my bags, throwing my clothes in a duffle and Luna in her carrier. Then I sit on the edge of the bed. Cas’s edge—closest to the bathroom because he sometimes gets up to pee in the middle of the night and rarely opened his eyes to get there.

Used to— _fuck,_ he _used_ to do that.

I sit here, not knowing what to do next or where to go next or anything about what’s _next. What comes after you, Cas? I never planned for there to be an_ after you.

I’m at a total loss, so I sit, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach that just seems to get bigger every time I think of leaving.

My throat closes tighter with every passing second, cutting off my breathing until I’m gasping for air, tears pricking my eyes as the hole in my chest grows impossibly big. I hate this. God, I _hate_ this. This _feeling._ Just…everything—I _hate_ it.

I lash out, my foot connecting with the nightstand and sending it flying across the room with a crash as the lamp falls to the floor.

The flutter of pages has me pausing. _What the hell?_ I scoop the papers off the floor, straightening them out and squinting at the hastily scribbled words in—in _Cas’s_ writing. Pages and pages of it. Every word, so beautifully written that I just…break.

Something bubbles up from deep inside my chest—something foreign—pouring out of my mouth in a sound that is so much like laughter that it must be just that. Once it starts, I can’t stop it, letting it fall out of my lips and into the silence as something claws its way up my windpipe.

And then I’m crying. Tears spilling over and wetting my cheeks as his words—all so _painfully_ sincere—tell me, in no uncertain terms, that he loves me with his whole heart.

What am I even supposed to do with this? Everything just hurts so _bad_ and there’s no more room for _this._

So it goes in the bag, folded carefully and tucked into the side as I grapple with myself to just _stop crying_.

It takes a while, but eventually the shaking stops and I’m able to pull the strap of my bag over my shoulder and swipe at my cheeks before grabbing Luna’s carrier with my free hand and leaving my room, turning off the light and closing the door as I go. Then I write a note of my own, knowing Sam plans on stopping by later today to check on me. I tell him I’m leaving but not where I’m going—I don’t even know that yet—and that I don’t know when I’ll be back, if ever. I leave it on the table, weighed down by the pen, and walk out the door, locking it behind me since Sam had a key made for himself a couple weeks ago.

The Impala’s door creaks when I open it—something I never bothered to fix when I rebuilt her—and I drop heavily onto the seat, setting Luna’s carrier beside me and tossing my duffle to the backseat. With another creak, I pull the door closed behind me but don’t start the car just yet.

What the hell am I supposed to do with the house? Every time I think of coming back here my stomach knots up and I can’t even imagine trying to live in there again. Maybe I’ll just leave it empty until I can come to get my stuff and buy a new place? That’s a hell of a lot better than living in it.

But Cas isn’t just in the walls. He’s in the furniture, too—the armchair in the living room where he’d sit and read with the fire lit and Christmas carols playing softly no matter how much I bitched about them. Or the kitchen table, where he’d lay out all his horti-whatever magazines, pouring over the exotic new flowers in stock and scribbling down their order codes almost frantically. And our bedroom—our _bed_ …I can’t bring myself to sleep in it again. I’ve _tried_ but it’s too big on my own now—too _empty_.

I shove the key in the ignition and turn on the car, feeling her rumble beneath me, but I still don’t move, tipping my head back as the sun heats my face. I flip down the sun visor.

What if… _Fuck_ , Charlie and Jo! They need a house! A tiny spark of relief flares in my chest. I won’t have to deal with _anything—_ just leave the house to them.

With that plan firmly in my mind, I pull out of the driveway and head for their apartment. They’ll both be at work but whatever; I have a key.

I let myself into their place, scanning the modern, fancy-ass crap for a piece of paper and a pen but end up having to go through Charlie’s desk for them.

I scribble a quick note.

_Charlie and Jo,_

_I’m leaving town. Don’t know if I’ll be back for the wedding so good luck and congratulations and I love you but I can’t stay. I’m leaving you the house, though, and, yeah, Jo, I know you want to pay for it yourself. Don’t worry, I thought of that._

_Buy Cas’s old property with that money and turn it into a garden—make it something beautiful so that maybe someday I can come back. That’s the only way I’ll take payment._

_Oh, and you can keep all my crap, or get rid of it—I don’t want it—just make sure to build the garden. Make sure there are lots of sunflowers, too; they were his favorite._

_I know you’re going to hate me for not saying goodbye._

_Forgive me?_

_Dean._

I leave it on the coffee table tucked under a Spock action figure before heading out, locking the door behind me.

As I wait in the elevator, my hands dug deep in my jacket pockets, I finger the ring tucked inside, feeling its smooth curve. I can’t keep it—it just makes me ache with longing every time I see it. It’s time to get rid of it—to move on.

One more stop before I go.

~*~*~*~

I don’t even bother worrying about Baby’s paint job as I maneuver her down the old, overgrown back road to the lake. I feel every pothole and rock underneath me but I’m too distracted by the riot inside my chest to worry about my car.

There’s no relief when I finally break through into the clearing. I’m trying to ignore it—to feel nothing at all—but there’s a niggling feeling in my gut that this isn’t right, only further solidified by the tight grip I have on the ring.

It’s like a fucking war inside my head—keep it or throw it away. Move on or stay put—and I don’t know which one to listen to because both ways _hurt._

I told myself I was okay with this but now that I’m here, and with every step that brings me closer to the shoreline, the more I start to shake. My knees feel too weak to carry me and there’s this… _clawing_ in my chest, reaching up my throat and squeezing my windpipe.

Tears prick my eyes but I force them back even as every breath comes in halting gasps. I stop by the edge of the water, closing my eyes to this place that holds so many memories— _good_ memories.

And I hear his voice. His laugh. The teasing tone in his words, and his amusement when I showed him how I love him.

I pick up a stone—hold it tight in one hand, the ring in the other. My hands shake with the strength of my grip as I clench my jaw tight and my eyes even tighter. The tears still make it through, though, dripping down my cheeks into the leaves at my feet.

I should’ve just taken the ring back to the jeweler.

What the hell was I thinking, coming here? Yeah, okay I _know_ what I was thinking. I wanted to leave our future in the only place we were always happy—where the memories are all good. Never even crossed my mind how hard this place would hit me. _Fuck_ , I’m so stupid. _So_ stupid because now I can hardly breathe and I’m shaking so violently my teeth would be chattering if I didn’t have them clenched so tight.

What am I _doing?_

Before I can turn around—go back to my car and drive away—I pull my arm back and whip its contents out to the center of the small lake. My knees go weak when the rock hits the water, ripples spreading out on all sides and I let myself fall. My knees hit the cold dirt as I hang my head, feeling the cold ache of loneliness in my chest.

I open my other hand, staring down at the white-gold band in the center of my palm, loving and hating everything it means to me, and I just want it _gone._

But my hand won’t open to let it go when I try again—holding on tight. So I slip it back into my pocket and hurry to my car.

I can’t do it _here._

But I know where I can. We were supposed to leave today, anyway, and with everything that happened…I just never got around to canceling it.

So once I get back to the main road, I head for Massachusetts. I’ll take the ring there and leave it in the place he always wanted to be. And then? I’ll figure that out when I get there.

~*~*~*~

The rumble of the Impala is the most soothing thing I’ve felt in three long weeks and even then, it does nothing to calm the rioting inside me with every mile I put between myself and Cas. Even after two days of driving, the feeling only gets worse every minute I’m gone.

Every time I feel the slithering ache in my throat, I turn up the radio to shove back the memories, but the louder the radio gets, the less it works to clear my head and the ache turns into a burn that turns into tears that stream down my face when _Fast_ _Car_ blares over the speakers and I look over and see that Cas isn’t there.

And now I’m crying so hard, I can’t see—sob after sob ripping from my throat until I’m forced to jerk the car off the road, pulling too quickly onto the curb and slamming on the breaks.

I hit the steering wheel once. Then again. And again and again as I yell at nothing and no one because now every memory comes at me all at once and hits me like a fucking _truck_ and there’s _nothing_ I can do about it.

Every aimless drive we took with _this song_ playing and Cas singing at the top of his lungs; his smile like sunshine, and a feeling in my heart like we could last forever. On a day just like this one, only a whole lot warmer and feeling a whole lot less like the end of the world.

My palms ache by the time I rest my forehead on the steering wheel, closing my eyes and breathing deeply as the rest of me shakes uncontrollably. I whisper out loud for only myself and Luna to hear, “How do I do this, Cas? I don’t—I don’t know how to _not_ love you. I don’t even know if I want to.” I sit up, swiping angrily at the tears on my cheeks before stabbing the power button, cutting off the song long before it ends.

The silence is deafening, so it’s almost a relief when my cell starts to ring with a ringtone other than Sam’s, Jo’s, Charlie’s, or anyone else I know. It’s the default tone I set for unknown callers.

I clear my throat and wipe my face one more time before answering. “Yeah?” My voice is rough and cracks at the end but I’m beyond caring at this point.

“Dean Winchester! How's that devilishly handsome brother of yours?” I close my eyes on a silent sigh.

“I-I don’t know. What do you need, Becky?” She doesn’t seem to notice how much I _don’t_ want to talk—or just doesn’t care.

“So, that manuscript you sent me—” Fuck, I forgot about that. “—I want to publish it. This…Castiel…can I get his number? He needs to sign some things before we can go ahead with the process.”

I let my head drop back and close my eyes, biting my lip but feeling it quiver anyway. I’m just barely able to hold back the words that claw at my throat, reminding myself that this is everything Cas ever wanted.

“He…uh—” I swallow thickly when my voice wavers. “His phone doesn’t work. Just—just send me the papers and I’ll have them signed and sent back.” My words are a lot stronger by the end and I hope to God she doesn’t hear the break in my voice.

I breathe a sigh of relief when she tells me she’ll just email them and to send them back within the week. Then we hang up and I slump in my seat, looking over at Luna curled up on the warm leather, her deep blue eyes watching me, silent as ever. She doesn’t move—just watches. And waits—for what? I don’t know.

God, what am I doing?

I pull Cas’s ring from my pocket and hold it up to the light. What am I _doing?_ This ring isn’t just about a wedding—it’s…it’s a promise. To love through the good and the bad—in sickness and health, until my last dying breath. So, what the _fuck_ am I doing? Because that promise is no less true today as it was when I bought the damn thing.

“Fuck,” I breathe. “What am I doing?” I close my eyes and take a deep, steadying breath, slipping Cas’s ring on my finger before cranking the wheel around and heading back to Kansas—back to Cas.

And now that I’m going back, the panic starts to weasel its way in, clouding my thoughts until there’s only one thing on my mind.

_What if he wakes up without me there?_

What if, after all the paramedics and the doctors and the surgeons did after we got him out of his burning building _works_ and he wakes up and _I’m not there?_ He’s not supposed to wake up ever—I know that—but what if he does? What if, by some miracle, his injuries heal and the seizures stop and he wakes up? It’s possible—unlikely, but still possible. I can almost picture his face—his eyes opening to the too-bright room and seeing everyone he loves around him…but me.

Just the thought has panic surging inside me and I press my foot down harder on the gas, feeling Baby rumble beneath me.

I drive all through the night and into the next morning to get back to him, too terrified to sleep and too anxious to stop.

It’s just before lunchtime when Sam calls again. I glance at the screen and sigh. I might as well face the music now.

“Sam,” I say, knowing I sound horrible but not bothering to care as I’m forced to slow down for traffic.

“Jesus, Dean! Where the hell are you? I’ve been calling for _days!_ ” I sigh, opening my mouth to respond but he speaks first. “Where the hell are you?”

“If you called just to give me shit, don’t bother.”

“No—no, actually you need to come back.” That has me pausing just before hanging up—my finger hovering over the red button. Not that I expected anything else, but it’s his tone that has me listening.

“What?”

“It’s—it’s Cas…he woke up—”

“He’s awake?” _Fuck._

“Yeah, but Dean, he’s—”

“Tell him I’m on my way. Six hours out—tops.”

“No, Dean, wait—” I hang up, feeling hope spring up in my chest for the first time in weeks. I’m so impatient to get back that I floor it, not caring for other cars or speeding laws—all I want is to see Cas. To just hold him close and never let go.

I don’t think of the complications they mentioned when they brought him in; they don’t even cross my mind.

~*~*~*~

It’s dark by the time I pull up outside the hospital, the moon just barely over the trees, but I hardly notice, shaking with nerves and anticipation as I lock Luna in her crate, deciding to leave her in the car, and head for the entrance.

I texted Sam only a few minutes ago but he’s already waiting for me at the nurse's station. He gives me a half smile but it’s forced. I don’t ask, slapping him on the arm before passing him on my way to the elevator. He follows close behind, standing next to me but not speaking. At least, not until the door is closed and we’re being whisked to the third floor.

“Listen, Dean, there’s something you should know.” He takes a deep breath but I cut him off before he can continue.

“It can wait until after I see Cas.” The doors slide open and I exit, ignore Sam as I head for the door with Cas on the other side. The hope inside my chest swells into excitement as I turn the knob and push the door open, scanning the room for Cas’s bright blue eyes.

Then I see them and everything inside me sighs. I smile and so does he, but…but something's not right. Something’s off and the hope inside me shatters when I realize what it is. His eyes…there’s no spark—they’re vacant. The light inside has been smothered out.

Sam steps inside the doorway but I don’t look his way, feeling the smile frozen on my face because this is Cas, but at the same time…it’s _not._

“He doesn’t recognize Gabe at all. Kind of freaks out when anyone tries to touch him; they had to sedate him a few times just to give him his meds to stop the seizures.” I feel myself nod as my throat closes up. “He doesn’t really speak, either. Only a few words here and there.”

My bottom lip starts to quiver and I bite down on it hard as a swell of emotion tries to drown me. He hasn’t looked away but I can tell it’s hard for him to focus for too long. His eyes glaze over before he jerks back into focus.

Still…with his shaved head, bandages, those eyes, and even that tiny, little _smile…_ I love him. And he’s awake. And I’m torn between being elated and devastated because he’s awake but he’s not _here._ Not really.

“Mostly, he asks for you.” That has me looking back at Sam. He shrugs and a half smile tilts up one side of his mouth.

With one more deep breath, I make my way to his bedside. His eyes struggle to follow me across the room but hold steady when I finally lower myself into the chair. I reach out and take his hand, winding our fingers together and trying not to think of how cold his skin is.

“D-D-Dean…” he breathes and I choke, tears pricking my eyes.

“Heya, Cas,” I whisper as a war starts inside me. I pull his hand up to my mouth and kiss his fingers with trembling lips as two thoughts force themselves into my mind, one right after the other.

 _How can I possibly stay?_ From the part of me that runs from pain and always has.

And then, from the part of me that knows he's worth all the pain the world can give… _How could I ever think to go?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who here hates Dean's choice to leave at the beginning after reading the end and knowing what you now know?
> 
> Yeah, me too.


	33. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The FINAL chapter! Wow, I can't believe I'm finally done! This story has taken up almost an entire year of my life and I'm both happy to move on from it, and sad to be done. 
> 
> I haven't decided if I want to do timestamps or not, but probably not. I think I need to move on to other things. Maybe other stories? Who knows?
> 
> I hope you all like how I chose to end it! Let me know!
> 
> BTW I'm going to go through all the chapters and edit them again to fix continuity issues, grammar, spelling, etc. so somethings might change (i.e. dates) but the story won't change. I started writing this almost a year ago so there's bound to be some issues but hopefully, I can get them straightened out so there's no (little) possibility for confusion.
> 
> *See end for a disclaimer*, but only if you don't care about (possible) spoilers. I haven't decided if it can actually be considered a spoiler or not lol
> 
> *Edit*
> 
> I just want to say how much I love reading all your comments, so thank you so much! Seriously, if I'm having a crappy day, I go back and read over them to make myself feel better. Thank you all so much, and even if I don't respond, just know how much they all mean to me! (I'll always respond to questions, though lol)

**_A Good Day In November, 2010_ **

_DEAN_

“Cas…Ca—Cas. Cas, I can _hear_ you.” I fight the twitching in my lips as I walk through his bedroom door, following the sound of his muffled laughter. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s in the closet, but his giggling only gets louder when I bend over to look under the bed before moving to his desk and checking behind the chair. “Castiel…” I draw out his name in a sing-song tone, taking slow steps towards his closet as the grin I’ve been holding back threatens to break free.

I can see his feet now, tucked in as far as he can get them, but the bright yellow bees are hard to miss, even through the inch-wide crack in the door.

I grin so hard my cheeks ache when his toes curl in, trying to get out of the stream of sunlight shining through the open curtain. It doesn’t work, but still, I open the bedroom door and call into the hallway, getting an even louder giggle.

“Cas? You out here?” I hear him snort, then hiccup. Okay, so he might be just a _little_ bit tipsy but it only makes him all the more adorable.

I close the door, creeping silently around the closet and bending down low. My heart pounds in my chest as Cas stops laughing.

“Dean?” I hear his muffled whisper from behind piles of clothes but don’t answer, creeping ever closer until, as fast as I can move, I grab him by both ankles and pull him through the doors and across the floor. He squeals as I pull him out, his smile the brightest I’ve ever seen it—the _happiest_ I’ve ever seen it—and I can’t help thinking that, yeah, this is the happiest I can remember being, too. Here with Cas, as I haul him off the floor and over my shoulder, spinning around as we both laugh until our stomach’s hurt. This is it—the happiest I’ve ever been.

Cas is almost shrieking with laughter by the time I drop him on the bed. He lands with a bounce but I’m on him, tickling mercilessly as he writhes beneath me, gasping for breath and squealing joyfully.

 _“Dean!_ Stop! I’m going to pee! Stop!” But he just keeps smiling that smile like sunshine even after I stop. I sit up, straddling his hips as he tries to catch his breath.

“Kinda funny how you hide in the closet but have been metaphorically _out of it_ forever,” I smirk, one half of my mouth tilting up as I wink.

He makes a face but doesn’t gratify me with a response, instead, panting out his own question. “How’d you…find me?”

I raise an eyebrow and plant my hands on either side of his head, leaning over him and breathing in his air. “You were laughing like a freaking hyena.” I grin, bending lower once he’s caught his breath and kissing him softly. It’s long and slow and just…perfect, and I don’t stop until he’s gasping for an entirely different reason. Even then, I don’t stop.

His hands clutch at my waist and he arches into me, smiling against my mouth as I press tiny pecks on his lips before running my nose up the side of his and meeting his eyes. “I wasn’t that loud,” he whispers against my skin and a bark of laughter escapes me.

“I could hear you from the hallway.” His smile turns into a pout and I roll my eyes. “Good thing you’re so damn cute.” I press a kiss between his eyes. “And smart.” One on the tip of his nose. “And funny…” Back to his lips. “Jesus, Cas—you’re the whole damn package.” I feel his smile against my own when I kiss him and it’s the best fucking thing…

“You mean that?” His eyes shine with his insecurities when I pull away and his voice is plagued with it.

I don’t even have to think about it. “‘Course.” I don’t like the worry I see in him—not one bit.

Almost without thinking about it, I jab my fingers into his waist, tickling him mercilessly once more and delighting in the radiant smile I get almost instantly.

He laughs and laughs and so do I, taking all the joy in my heart and, instead of hiding it away like usual so that it can’t be taken from me, I let it show on my face and shine in my eyes for only Cas to see.

The sun warms my skin and my stomach aches from laughing as I think to myself, this is it. With Cas’s smile like sunshine and the swelling in my heart—this is it. This is the best it gets.

 

**_August 18, 2020_ **

_DEAN_

My eyes snap open to the dark room and for a moment, his laughter lingers. I swear I can almost hear it at the edges of my memory.

But it’s not laughter and I jerk up in bed and scramble for my phone, the sheets tangling in my feet as I hurry to get up. Only one person calls me this late at night and it’s never a good thing.

“Tessa?” I can already feel the adrenaline pumping through my blood as I get my feet under me, scrambling for some clothes as screaming echos through the phone.

“Dean, hi—” The screaming quiets only a little after I hear a door close. “How fast can you get over here?”

I pull a shirt on over my head as I answer. “Give me five minutes. What happened?” There are so many possibilities and they all send my heart skipping with panic as they swirl in my mind.

“Bad day. Phantom leg pains, seizures, and now he won't let me anywhere near him to give him a sedative.” Her weariness is so clear in her voice and I close my eyes on a sigh.

“Fuck, okay.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Bring Luna.” Fuck, it’s bad. I hear a crash in the background and scoop Luna up off the pillow, ignoring her protests and not bothering with her crate as I shove my feet into my boots and head out the door, barely remembering to lock it behind me before running for the elevator.

I don’t even bother to look both ways before running across the dark street to the sprawling property across the road where Cas lives, pulling out my key card as I go and completely ignoring the rain that soaks me through.

The lobby is dark and empty, all the residents having gone to bed hours ago, but it’s far from silent. Cas’s screams echo through the halls from his room on the third floor. I don’t bother with the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time until I reach the top.

Tessa’s nowhere to be found when I reach Cas’s room at the end of the hall, but he’s not alone. I ignore the caregiver by Cas’s bedside as she fights with him to hold still while jabbing a needle at him.

“Well, that’s not going to fucking help,” I snap, setting Luna in the chair beside the bed where she promptly curls up and goes to sleep, not at all bothered by Cas’s high-pitched, terrified screams. Fuck, I can actually _feel_ my heart aching. “Tessa!” I shout, drawing the blonde’s attention, but, unfortunately, not Cas’s. It’s too dark in here—he can’t see me. “Turn on the fucking lights.”

“That’ll just make him worse—what are you _doing?_ ” I ignore her as I climb onto the bed, straddling Cas’s legs and wrapping myself around his flailing body just as Tessa rounds the corner.

“Do what he says,” Tessa orders, moving to stand next to blondie and taking the sedative from her. “Give me that. You got him?”

She looks at me and I nod as the light is flicked on. I tighten my grip as Cas’s screams get more and more panicked. “Hurry,” I whisper, hating the tears I feel against my skin—hating that I’m the cause of them. Tessa gets him sedated and I hold him as he calms down, feeling his muscles loosen until I can finally pull away.

I’m met with wide, terrified, blue eyes, but they calm almost instantly when they meet mine. Then he’s sobbing—his whole body shaking from the force of each one and I pull him close again, moving onto my side and tucking his face into my neck.

I shush him, running my fingers through his soft hair and kissing his head. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m so sorry. It’s okay—you’re okay; you’re safe. It’s okay.” I repeat these words until his sobs turn to hiccups, which turn to sniffles, until his breathing evens out and his heartbeat slows against my side. By now both Tessa and the other one have left the room, turning the light off on their way out. I sag into the bed, closing my eyes with a weary sigh.

Tessa pokes her head back in not too long after and raises an eyebrow. “You staying?” She whispers and all I can do is nod and give her a small smile in thanks. It’s more forced than I’d like, but it’s all I can give right now.

She deserves so much more than a halfhearted smile as thanks for all she’s done for us, but even after more than a year and a half, she insists that quitting her job at the hospital to take care of Cas is the best thing she’s ever done.

I should’ve been here, though. This whole school thing is kicking my ass, but I can’t quit; this is the best way for me to be here all the time. Getting my diploma is the only way that I’ll never have to leave Cas’s side. I can do all his care, be here on his bad days and enjoy his good days because that’s all I want—to just be here for all his days.

Eventually, I maneuver myself off the bed, repositioning Cas so that he’ll be comfortable and settling Luna by his feet before reclining in the chair next to him. I stretch out with the footrest up and take his hand, twining our fingers together as I close my eyes.

All my worries and fears concerning Cas threaten to keep me up until the sun rises but exhaustion pulls me under and I’m asleep within minutes, dreaming, once again, of Cas’s beautiful, sunshine smile.

~*~*~*~

The first thing I notice when I wake up, before I even open my eyes, is that I’m too hot. I throw off the blanket draped over me and scowl at my empty hand as I sit up. Cas never lets go of my hand—not until I’m awake, anyway. 

“You _must_ take your medicine, Castiel!” My head snaps in that direction and I’m on my feet in a second, rounding the bed and snatching the cup out of blondie’s hand.

“Where the hell did you get your certifications? Jesus Christ…” She scowls at me as she tries to take back the cup but I hold it out of her reach. “Forcing them down his throat will get you exactly _nowhere_ and it’ll get you fired.”

“Is that a _threat?_ ”

I don’t bother answering as I climb up on the bed beside Cas, meeting his steely blue eyes. Dammit, she’s gone and pissed him off.

Turns out I don’t have to answer her—Tessa does it for me. “ _Toni!_ ” Her head snaps around so fast I wince, but I don’t bother looking back at Tessa as I run my fingers through Cas’s hair, trying my damndest to get him to calm down enough to do as I ask. “Perhaps you haven’t been properly introduced.” Her words are polite but her tone is low and dangerous and I smirk. “Mr. Novak, the man under your care, is our primary, and _sole_ benefactor here at Novak Home For The Disabled, keeping us running entirely on his own. Mr. Winchester, here, has power of attorney for Mr. Novak, paying our salaries for the very best care we can give to Mr. Novak and the other residents. Without their satisfaction, you are out of a job. Not me, just you. So, yes, that is very much a _threat._ ”

By this time, Cas has loosened his jaw fractionally. “C’mon Cas, you’ve gotta take them. Can’t go for a walk unless you do…” I raise an eyebrow when his eyes snap to mine. That got his attention. I shake one out into my palm and hold it to his lips, only to have him jerk away and turn his nose up at it. “Please? It’ll make me happy? It’ll make you feel better and that makes me happy. Do you want to make me happy?”

He watches me for a moment before nodding slowly, opening his mouth just enough for me to place it on his tongue. I grab the glass of water from the nightstand and hold the straw to his lips, waiting for him to swallow the pill before doing the same with the rest of them until the cup and glass are both empty.

After setting them aside, I run my fingers through his hair again and turn back to look at Tessa. “Who the hell’s she?” I nod at Blondie. Toni, I think she said.

Toni snorts and crosses her arms, looking away from me and out the window overlooking the grounds.

“New recruit. Second day and she’s already got an attitude like she runs the damn place.”

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Oh, and Gabe cancelled—said something about overbooked flights and that he’ll be here some time next week with Sam—so, I’ve got her with you and Cas today.”

My head snaps around to glare at Tessa, but she looks at me with the biggest puppy eyes. _Please?_ She mouths and I just sigh, nodding begrudgingly. I don’t even bother asking about Gabe. Cas not remembering anyone hit him harder than it did anyone else, but he’ll be here—I know he will.

Cas starts shifting around behind me and he balls one hand in my shirt, tugging insistently to get my attention. I turn, and once he sees he’s got my eyes on him, he tilts his head back expectantly. I can only smile softly as I lean in, pressing my lips to his forehead in a lingering kiss before whispering, “Morning, Angel.” His eyelids flutter softly as they close, a small smile turning up his lips.

“Should probably get him down for breakfast, then,” Toni claps and moves in closer. “If you’ll just let me get him up…”

“I can do it,” I say, already pulling back his covers. “You can go get his breakfast ready. He likes PB&J the best but he’ll need fruit, too, so make sure he gets some on his plate. He likes banana’s and grapes, but no mango; he hates mango. Oh, and don’t give him apple slices; he’ll have some for a snack later. We’ll be down in a bit.”

She opens her mouth to respond but Tessa pulls her out, leaving Cas and I alone. I hum as I get off the bed, moving over to his dressers to pick out some clothes for the day before changing him, catheter bag and all. He just sits quietly, watching me as I take care of him.

“Hmm,” I look at his chair when I’m done, trying to hide my playful smile as I glance between it and him. I take a seat as he watches, a small grin turning up his cheeks. “I don’t know, Cas. This chair is pretty comfy…” I say in a sing-song voice as I wiggle around a little, testing out the cushions and headrest. “Maybe _I_ should get the chair today and you can take a walk—push me around the yard. You know, stretch those legs a little.”

He grins, reaching out with a swatting movement and letting out a little hum as I wheel it back and forth with the controls.

“What do you say, Lazy Bones? Wanna get those feet moving?”

He giggles this time and my heart swells. He’s gotten so much better since the accident—so much happier than he was before. His bad days are fewer and farther in between; the seizures coming less and less often. It’s so rare to see him without a smile these days, especially when I’m here, which is most nights and every day.

“Is that a _no_ , then?” I raise an eyebrow and he shakes his head. “It’s not a _no?_ ” He shakes his head again, a grin still splitting his face.

“No…my ch-chair…”

“Oh! This is _your_ chair?”

He nods.

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so? C’mon now, get in, then.” I stand, waving for him to get in the chair but he only holds his arms out for help. I grin, “Alright, alright. But this is the _last_ time! Tomorrow you’re on your own.”

He just shakes his head, still holding his arms out as I maneuver him to the edge of the bed. I sit between his legs, facing away from him and letting him wrap his arms around my shoulders before I stand, lifting him with me and turning around to sit him down in the chair.

I groan, standing and stretching afterward. There’s a lift next to his bed but he hates it. He fights and screams and cries and I _refuse_ to put him in there no matter how many times Tessa says I should let him get used to it.

When I turn back around he’s grinning up at me. I strap him in and press another kiss to his forehead before moving around to the back of the chair.

“Alright, Sunshine, we’d better get going before Tessa eats all your breakfast.” He makes an appalled sound and slaps at the armrests. I take the hint, chuckling as I push him down the hall to the elevator and position him inside to face the mirrored walls.

He watches me while I make faces at him and his smile grows with each one, warming my heart with his joy. This is why I do it. I have to keep reminding myself why I’m going back to school—taking extra courses and working my ass off to finish early. _This_ is why. _That_ smile and the happiness I see in his eyes—he’s why.

~*~*~*~

The grass is still wet from yesterday’s rain but Luna doesn’t seem overly bothered as she sniffs the ground, walking always at the end of her leash. Cas rolls along beside me, using his controls instead of having me push him. He likes having control of himself out here and I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t.

Much to my annoyance, Toni followed us outside after breakfast. We mostly just ignore each other as Cas drives back and forth along the sunflowers, running his fingers through the petals and pointing out all the bumblebees for me. I grin and nod at each one, watching him brighten up every time I do.

I take a seat on one of the benches, kicking my feet out in front of me and crossing my ankles as I watch him, my heart swelling in my chest every time I hear his laughter carried across the breeze.

I pull Cas’s book into my lap when Toni sits beside me, adjusting her skirt and eyeing the book in my hands. I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry,” she says, her British accent thicker than I remember it being this morning and last night. “Just…what is that?”

I look down at the glossy cover of my pristine, limited edition, hard-cover copy of Cas’s book. “A book—Cas’s book”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, but who wrote it? What’s it called?”

I give her a flat look. “ _Cas_ wrote it.”

Her eyebrows practically disappear into her hairline as she gives me a disbelieving look. “Castiel. _That_ man.” She points at Cas as he gingerly scratches the top of Luna’s head while she lounges in his lap, purring and squirming as he bends forward to kiss her head. He can’t quite reach and grunts in annoyance before she arches up to meet him halfway. “ _Him—h_ e wrote a book.”

Annoyance bubbles up inside me and I narrow my eyes at her before looking back at Cas. The first bit of sadness starts to creep in as I think about before. I try not to think about that time often, but sometimes it can’t be helped—seeping in through the cracks of our lives.

“He wasn’t always like this.” I run my fingers over the cover without looking at it. The book did wonderfully, and even now, it pays for this place. Not that Cas needs the money—there’s more than enough from the legal trials to cover everything for the rest of his life. But still, this was everything he wanted and I can’t help but take pride in him.

“He was a brilliant writer.” My fingers twitch against the dust sleeve and I curl them into a tight fist before stretching them apart again. “Then shit happened.” I clear my throat when it starts to close. I’ve gotten better at talking about it but it’s still difficult at times, taking me by surprise and choking me up. “He, uh…he was in a fire. He was pronounced ‘legally dead’ for—for too long. Not enough oxygen to his brain.” I shrug, but it does nothing to lighten the weight on my chest.

She’s quiet for a moment before asking another question. “The paralysis? Was that why he couldn’t get out?”

“Sure, you could say that.” I shrug again and shake my head with a bitter smile. “The beating he took from the guys who started the fire did the trick. Caused some more brain damage, too.” I flick the bookmark sticking out from the pages as I struggle to get the rioting in my stomach under control.

Cas squeals from across the yard and my head snaps up, but I sigh in relief and look back at the book when I see that Luna has jumped off his lap and he’s chasing behind her. I used to worry that he’d run her over but he never does, always careful to stop before he gets too close.

“Is this how you met Cas? In the home?”

“Nah, that’s a long story.” I take a deep, shuddering breath and try not to think about it. “And I wouldn’t tell it even if we had the time.” I pause and smile at Cas as he races towards us with his eyes locked on me, a grin on his face and the breeze blowing his hair in every direction as Luna sits in his lap, looking content to be raced around.

“Lu!” He shouts, “Pet!” He giggles and I reach out to give Luna a scratch behind the ears. He grins wider before reversing and speeding towards the lake.

“Don’t go too close!” I shout and he slows down, veering away from the water and racing back towards the flowers.

“What did you do before this?” Toni continues after Cas is gone.

“Was a firefighter. Couldn’t go back after what happened to Cas, though.” Even thinking about it hurts, so I don’t, focussing instead on Cas as he carefully chooses a new flower for his room.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way; it certainly isn’t meant to offend, but…don’t you want to do something else with your life? I mean, you’re young and could do so many things still. Cas is kind of a weight holding you down, isn’t he?”

I blink hard at her and shake my head in disbelief. Of course, I did think about it, back before Cas woke up. Back when they told me he would _never_ wake up. But since then, it never crosses my mind. “He’s the love of my life—what else do I do but love him all my life?”

She’s silent for a while after that, just staring out into the garden. Eventually, Cas comes back with a beautiful sunflower clutched in one hand. He passes it over and I tuck it in the back of his chair before flipping open the book when he points to it.

He likes when I read to him. Only the happy parts, though; those are his favorite. After a while and a few chapters, my voice gets rough and I stop, putting the bookmark back in place and setting it aside. I grab a water bottle from the bag hooked to the back of Cas’s chair and take a sip before sticking a straw in it and offering it to Cas. He drinks almost all of it, water dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. I wipe it clean and ruffle his hair.

“You want a snack, Cas?” I ask, riffling through the bag for the apple slices and honey inside.

“Mmm,” he hums when he sees what I have, opening his mouth for a bite. He eats greedily until it’s gone, pouting for only a moment before licking the honey off his lips and grinning again.

He doesn’t move away, holding out a shaky hand for me to take. I smile, standing up and walking beside him as he leads me around the grass, Toni following close behind.

“So, do you have a life outside of this place? A girlfriend…boyfriend?” I raise an eyebrow at her and she shrugs. “Just curious.”

I snort, twisting Cas’s hand around just enough for her to see the ring. “No.” I leave it at that, but she’s not satisfied.

“Seriously? Not even a one-nighter?”

“No,” I say again, stooping to pick up a pebble when Cas points at it, handing it to him before we continue on again. “Cas might not remember anything from before, but he remembers me. God knows why, but he does, and I’m not about to spend any time with someone else when I could be spending it with him.”

“Nothing? He doesn’t remember _anything?_ ” Cas points at two more pebbles and I pick them up, basking in the pleased grin he gives me when I hand them over.

“That’s how it seems,” I shrug. “It’s what the doctors say, anyway. They did some fancy brain scan and the only time his scans did whatever they do when he feels recognition was when they showed him my picture.”

“That must be awful…”

“It’s better like this, I think. He…uh—he had a pretty rough time of it for…well, for his entire life, I guess. Haunted him right up until he lost his memories. He’s happier now; smiles more than he ever did before.” Sadness creeps into my voice at the reminder of all we’ve lost together. Yeah, we had a lot of bad times, but we had a lot of good, too. My heart aches with the knowledge that he doesn’t remember those, either.

Cas stops and hands me some pebbles when they start falling off his lap and I tuck them in my pockets before reclaiming his hand. We’ve made it back around to the building and I glance over, catching Tessa peering through the window. She gives me a thumbs up and I return it before she disappears and we carry on.

“Are you happy, though?”

“What?”

“Are _you_ happy?”

“Doesn’t matter if I’m happy.” I look away from her, focussing on the grass and the lake in front of us.

“Of course it does! You’re a person, too! You have the same needs as the rest of us and ignoring them isn’t healthy. I know you think he makes you happy, but no one can be happy like this—”

I stop in my tracks, rounding on her and getting in her face, my voice dangerously calm. “Don’t you _dare_ insinuate that his life isn’t worth as much as mine _._ My being here makes him happy, and _he_ makes _me_ happy and if you think for even a _second_ that I’ll put anything above Cas’s wellbeing, then you’re in the wrong place.” I practically growl the words at her and she shrinks away. “I’d tread very lightly if I were you or you might find yourself out of a job.” I pull away, taking Cas’s hand again when he starts to grunt impatiently.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, but I don’t respond, still feeling the anger pulsing through my veins.

We walk and collect pebbles and smell the flowers for more than an hour before Toni speaks again. By this point we’ve stopped by the lake, staring out at the ducks splashing in the shallows.

“Do you ever regret it?” I can almost feel her wince beside me but I’m too tired to be angry. So I tell her the truth.

“You know, at first I thought I would. S’why I left.” I shake my head as a bitter laugh falls from my lips. “God, I was a selfish bastard; so afraid of being hurt that I hurt him instead. But I think—I _know_ —I would’ve regretted leaving more. At the end of the day, he’s still the same Cas I fell in love with in high school—took me a while to see it, but he’s in there.”

“How? What’s there from before?” I glance at her and she gives me a shy smile and a one-shouldered shrug—curious.

I look back to where Cas is now parked right on the edge of the water, carefully sorting through his rocks. “Sunflowers were always his favorite. Same with apples dipped in honey.” I nod to Luna. “I bought him that damn cat because he couldn’t stand to let her be put down.” Luna rolls around in the grass by the wheel of Cas’s chair and I can still picture his face when he saw her and realized what I’d done for him. “And these,” I say, pulling a pebble from my pocket and holding it up for her to see.

“What’s up with that, by the way? I meant to ask before.”

I grin, turning around and walking backward towards the shore as I tell her what I told Cas the first time we came back here. “It’s how I love him.”

With that, I turn to face the lake and hurl the pebble out into the open water to the sound of Cas’s gleeful shriek.

“I don’t get it.”

I shrug and pluck one out of Cas’s lap before handing it to him and watching as he awkwardly throws the pebble in, just barely hitting the water, but it’s enough. I bend down to his level and pull his head to me, just close enough to plant a kiss on his temple and steal another pebble.

As I hurl it out as far as I can, Cas watches it fall but I watch him, knowing the instant it hits the water, not because I see the ripples or hear the splash, but by the smile that lights up his face—that smile like sunshine…I could look at him forever and never get tired of the way he makes me feel when he smiles _that_ smile. And that’s the point of it all, isn’t it?

“You don’t have to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Disclaimer*
> 
> I have limited knowledge of brain injuries and their effects, and paralysis and what that entails. Everything I know comes from limited personal experience and internet research but if you see something that isn't right and you know how it can be fixed to better represent the reality of Cas's disabilities, please let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> That being said, every experience of brain damage is different so please keep that in mind. This is in no way meant to encompass all brain injuries to ever happen. I'm more concerned with the accuracy of the medical side effects of paralysis/brain damage and the measures taken to help those side effects.


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